''  UNIVEBSITY  OF 
NOr^l  CAROLINA 
School  of  Library 
Science 


^ 


V   o 


/J/l 


ffpt^. 


d'liZ-  'iJ^=k^^^ 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2012  witii  funding  from 

University  of  Nortii  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/guyharrisrunawaycast 


FosA.ck;  C!^*^-!^^   /)us-i-.  M 


Guy  Harris, 


THE  RUNAWAY. 


By  harry  CASTLEMON, 


Author  of 

'  Julian  Mortimer,"  "  The  Boy  Trapper,"  "  Sportsman's  Club  Series,"  "The 
Gunboat  Series,"  etc.,  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


NEW   YORK : 

A.  L.  BURT,  PUBLISHER. 


Copyrighted  1887,  by  A.  L.  Burt. 


GUY     HARRIS, 

THE  RUNAWAY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    AFPAIR    OF    THE    5IATCH-B0X, 

ELL,  Guy  Harris,   I  have  only  one  word  to 

say  to  you.     If  you  think  you  can  phiy  off  on 

me  in  this  way,  3'ou  are  very  much  mistaken. 

I  will  i^ost  you  among  the  fellows  as  a  boy 

Avho  is  too  mean  to  pay  his  honest  debts.  ^'' 

"  I  don't  care  if  you  do,  George  Wolcom.  I'll  tell 
the  felloAvs  in  return  that  I  have  no  debts  hanging  over 
me,  and  that  you  are  a  boy  who  doesn't  do  as  he  agrees. 
I  wanted  a  cross-gun;  I  tried  to  make  one  and  failed. 
You  said  you  knew  how  to  handle  carpenters'  tools  and 
would  make  me  one.  I  described  to  you  just  what  I 
wanted,  and  you  told  me  that  you  could  fill  the  bill,  and 
that  the  gun,  when  completed,  would  be  Avorth  half  a  dol- 
lar. What  sort  of  a  thing  have  you  given  me?  Look  at 
this,"  continued  the  speaker,  holding  out  at  arm's 
length  a  piece  of  wood  which  might  have  been  taken  for 
a  cross-gun,  although  it  looked  about  as  much  like  a 
ball-club;  "I  can  make  a  better  one  myself." 

"Then  5'ou  don't  intend  to  pay  me?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,  when  you  bring  me  such  a  gun  as  I 
told  you  I  wanted." 

"  But  you  won't  pay  me  for  the  one  I  have  already 
made  for  you?" 

"No,  sir,  I  won't." 

696733 


6  GUY  HARRIS. 

"Very  well;  but  boar  in  mind  that  1  am  a  boy  who 
never  let's  one  do  him  a  mean  triek  without  jiaying  him 
back  in  his  own  coin.  I'll  be  even  with  you  for  swind- 
ling me/' 

"^  Oh,  Guy!  I  say.     Guy  Harris,  hold  on  a  minute." 

The  two  boys,  between  whom  the  conversation  above 
recorded  took  place,  sto})ped  when  they  heard  these  words, 
and  looking  across  the  street  saw  Tom  Proctor  running 
toward  them.  One  arm  was  buried  to  the  elbow  in  his 
pocket,  and  under  the  other  he  carried  a  beautiful 
snow-white  dove,  which  was  fluttering  its  wings  and 
trying  to  escape  from  his  grasp. 

"See  here,  Guy!"  exclaimed  Tom  as  he  came  up,  '•  I 
have  just  been  over  to  your  house,  where  I  found  my 
pigeon,  which  I  lost  about  a  week  ago.  Your  mother 
said  it  came  to  your  barn,  and  that  you  shut  it  up  to 
keep  it  for  me.  Now  that  vras  a  neighborly  act,  and  I 
Avant  to  repay  it.  Here's  that  box  you  have  so  often  tried 
to  buy  from  me." 

As  Tom  said  this  he  pulled  his  hand  out  of  his  jiocket 
and  gave  Guy  the  article  in  question,  which  proved  to  bo 
a  brass  match-box.  It  was  not  a  very  valuable  thing,  but 
it  had  a  revolving  top  secured  by  a  curiously  contrived 
spring,  was  stanqjod  all  over  with  figures  of  Avild  ducks, 
deer  and  rabbits,  and  was  altogether  different  from  any- 
thing of  the  kind  that  Guy  had  ever  seen  before. 

For  some  reason  or  other  he  had  long  slio^vn  a  desire 
to  obtain  possession  of  this  box,  but  the  owner  could 
not  be  induced  to  jjart  with  it. 

Before  he  could  express  his  thanks  for  the  gift  Tom 
was  half-way  across  the  street  on  his  way  home. 

"  This  is  just  the  thing  I  wanted,"  said  Guy  joyfully, 
as  he  and  George  Wolcom  resumed  their  walk.  '"I 
shall  think  of  Tom  every  time  I  look  at  this  box  Avhen 
I  am  out  on  the  prairie." 

"  When  you  are  out  on  the  prairie?"  echoed  George. 
'■'  AVhat  do  you  mean  by  that?'' 

"  Oh,  it  is  my  secret:.  You  may  know  it  some  day, 
but  not  now.  What  do  you  suppose  is  the  reason  why 
I  want  a  cross-guu?" 


THE  AFFAIR  OF  THE  MA  TCH-BOX.  7 

"Why,  to  kill  birds  with." 

"No,  sii";  I  want  to  practice  shooting  at  a  mark.  I 
shall  have  nse  for  a  rifle  every  hour  in  the  day  before  I 
am  many  months  older. '^ 

"You  will?     Where  are  you  going?" 

"Yon  needn't  ask  questions,  for  I  sha'u't  answer 
them,"  said  Guy,  shutting  the  box  with  a  click,  and 
making  a  motion  to  put  it  into  his  pocket. 

"Wait  a  second,'"  exclaimed  George  suddenly.  "I 
know  why  Tom  Proctor  was  generous  enough  to  give 
you  that  box.  It  will  be  of  no  use  to  you  for  the  sjoring 
is  broken." 

"It  isn't  either,'"  replied  Guy. 

"  Yes  it  is;  I  saw  it.  Hand  it  out  here  and  I  Avill 
show  you." 

Without  hesitation  Guy  passed  the  box  over  to  his 
companion,  who,  after  opening  and  shutting  it  a  few 
times,  and  making  a  pretense  of  examining  the  spring, 
coolly  put  it  into  his  own  pocket.  Guy  looked  at  him 
in  great  surprise,  but  George  walked  on  without  notic- 
ing him. 

•  "Now  that's  the  biggest  piece  of  impudence  I  ever 
witnessed,"  said  Guy  at  length.  "'  I'd  like  to  know 
what  you  mean  by  it." 

"'  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  I  always  get  even  with  a  fel- 
low who  does  me  a  mean  trick?"  asked  George,  in  re2:)ly. 
"'  I'll  keep  this  box  as  part  payment  for  the  cross-gun  I 
made  you." 

"Do  yon  call  this  thing  a  cross-gun?"  demanded 
Guy,  once  more  holding  up  the  stick  he  carried  in  his 
hand;  "  I  don't,  and  I  sha'n't  pay  yon  a  cent  for  it 
either.     Give  me  that  box." 

"  Give  me  that  half-dollar  you  owe  me." 

"  I  don't  owe  you  any  half-dollar.  Here,  take  your 
old  cross-gun  and  give  me  my  box." 

"  It  isn't  my  gun: — it  is  yours  ;  and  yon  can't  hare 
your  box  till  I  get  my  just  dues.  You  may  depend 
upon  that." 

A  long  and  spirited  debate  followed  this  reply,  and 


8  GUY  HARRIS. 

would  most  likely  have  ended  in  Llows  had  tlie  two 
boys  been  of  equal  age  and  size,  for  Guy  was  a  spirited 
fellow,  and  always  ready  to  stand  up  for  his  rights. 

George  was  an  overgrov/n  lout  of  a  boy,  and  plumed 
himself  on  being  the  bully  of  his  school.  Guy  knew 
better  than  to  attempt  to  take  the  box  from  him  by 
force,  so  he  followed  along  after  him,  talking  all  the 
while,  and  trying  to  convince  him  that  he  Avas  in  the 
wrong,  and  that  he  showed  anything  but  a  manly  spirit 
in  taking  so  unfair  an  advantage  of  a  boy  so  much 
smaller  than  himself. 

But  George,  being  pig-headed  and  vindictive,  could 
not  be  made  to  look  at  the  matter  in  that  light.  He 
kept  tantalizing  his  companion  by  turning  the  box  in 
his  hand,  praising  the  beauty  of  the  figui'es  stamped 
u]3on  it,  and  asking  Guy  noAv  and  then  if  he  had  any- 
thing else  he  could  keep  his  matches  in  when  he  reached 
the  prairie. 

Presently  the  two  boys  arrived  in  front  of  the  house 
in  which  Guy  lived— a  neat  little  edifice,  with  a  grav- 
eled carriage-way  leading  upon  one  side,  and  trees  and 
shrubbery  growing  all  around  it.  Guy  halted  at  the 
gate,  and  George,  believing  that  if  his  companion  would 
not  pay  him  for  his  cross-gun  he  might  be  willing  to 
give  half  a  dollar  to  get  joossession  of  the  match-box 
again,  stopped  also  to  argue  the  matter. 

While  the  discussion  of  the  points  Guy  had  raised  was 
going  on,  the  gate  leading  into  the  next  yard  was 
opened,  and  a  bright,  lively-looking  fellow,  Henry 
Stewart  by  name,  and  one  of  Guy's  particular  friends, 
came  out.  He  greeted  Guy  pleasantly,  and  was  about 
to  pass  on,  when  he  noticed  the  look  of  trouble  on  his 
face,  and  stopped  to  inquire  the  reason  for  it.  The  mat- 
ter was  explained  in  few  words,  and  Henry  turned  and 
gave  the  bully  a  good  looking  over.  Being  a  great  lover 
of  justice,  he  was  indignant  at  the  treatment  his  crony 
had  received. 

"Well,"  said  George,  returning  Henry's  gaze  Avitli 
interest;  "you  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  business, 
and  if  you  are  wise  you  will  keep  out  of  it." 


THE  AFFAIR  OF  THE  MA  TCH-BOX.  9 

" I  want  that  box!"  said  Henry  firmly. 

"  If  yon  get  it  before  I  am  ready  to  give  it  to  you," 
returned  George,  ''just  send  me  word,  will  you?" 

Before  this  defiance  had  fairly  left  his  lips  the  bully 
was  rolling  over  and  over  in  the  gutter,  which  was  in  a 
very  moist  condition,  owing  to  the  heavy  rain  that  had 
fallen  during  the  previous  night,  Avhile  his  antagonist 
stood  erect  on  the  sidewalk,  tiushed  and  excited,  but 
without  even  a  Avrinkle  in  his  clean,  white  wristbands, 
or  a  spot  of  mud  on  his  well-blacked  boots.  In  falling, 
George  dropped  the  match-box,  which  Henry  caught  up 
and  put  into  his  pocket. 

This  proceeding  was  witnessed  by  two  women — 
Henry's  mother  and  Guy's  step-mother.  The  latter 
made  no  move,  but  treasured  up  the  scene  in  her  mem- 
ory to  be  repeated  in  a  greatly  exaggerated  form  to  Mr. 
Harris  when  he  came  home  to  dinner,  while  Henry's 
mother  hurried  down  the  stairs  and  out  to  the  gate.  She 
called  to  her  son,  who  promptly  answered  the  summons, 
and  in  reply  to  her  anxious  inquiries  repeated  the  story 
of  Guy's  troubles. 

I  do  not  know  what  his  mother  said  to  him,  but  I  am 
sure  it  could  not  have  been  anything  very  harsh,  for  a 
moment  afterward  Henry  came  gayly  down  the  walk, 
winked  at  Guy  as  he  passed,  and  looked  pleasantly 
toward  the  discomfited  bully,  who,  having  picked  him- 
self up  from  the  gutter,  was  making  the  best  of  his  way 
to  the  other  side  of  the  street,  holding  one  hand  to  his 
head  and  the  other  to  his  back,  both  of  which  had  been 
pretty  badly  bruised  by  tlie  hard  fall  he  had  received. 

"  K'ow,  that  Hank  Stewart  is  the  right  sort!"  thought 
Guy,  gazing  admiringly  after  the  erect,  slender  figure  of 
his  friend  as  it  moved  rapidly  down  the  street.  "If  it 
hadn't  been  for  him  I  should  never  have  seen  this  box 
again.  I  shouldn't  like  to  lose  it,  for  I  shall  have  use 
for  matches  after  I  become  a  hunter  and  trapper,  and  I 
shall  need  something  to  carry  them  in.  This  box  is  just 
the  thing.  If  I  wasn't  afraid  Hank  would  refuse,  I 
would  ask  him  to  go  with  me,     I  must  have  a  com- 


10  GUY  HARRIS. 

panion,  for  of  course  I  don't  want  to  go  riding  about 
over  those  prairies  on  my  wild  mustang  all  by  myself 
while  there  are  so  many  hostile  Indians  about,  and  Hank 
is  the  fellow  I'd  like  to  have  with  me.  He  knows  every- 
thing about  animals  and  the  woods;  he's  the  best  fisher- 
man in  Norwall;  he  never  misses  a  double  shot  at  ducks 
or  quails;  and  I  never  saw  a  boy  that  could  row  or  sail  a 
boat  with  him.  Why,  it  Avouldn't  be  long  before  he 
would  be  the  best  hunter  and  trapper  that  ever  tracked 
the  prairie.  I'll  think  about  it,  and  perhaps  I  shall 
make  up  my  mind  to  ask  him  to  go  with  me  instead  of 
Bob  AValker.'" 

Thus  soliloquizing  Guy  made  his  way  through  the 
yard  to  the  carriage-house  and  mounted  the  stairs  lead- 
ing to  the  rooms  above.  There  were  three  of  them. 
The  first  and  largest  served  in  summer  as  a  place  of 
storage  for  Mr.  Harris'  sleighs  and  buffalo-robes,  and  in 
winter  for  his  buggy  and  family  carriage.  The  second 
Avas  the  room  in  which  the  coachman  slept,  and  the 
third  Guy  had  aj)propriated  to  his  own  use. 

Here  he  had  collected  a  lot  of  trumj)ery  of  all  sorts, 
Avhich  he  called  his  '^  curiosities,"  and  of  which  he  took 
the  greatest  possible  care.  The  members  of  the  family, 
and  those  of  his  young  friends  Avho  had  seen  the  inside 
of  this  room,  thought  that  Guy  had  shown  strange 
taste  in  making  his  selections,  for  there  was  not  an 
article  in  it  that  Avas  Avorth  saA^ng  as  a  curiosity,  and 
but  fcAV  that  could  under  any  circumstances  be  of  the 
least  use  to  him. 

On  a  nail  opposite  the  door  hung  a  rubber  blanket 
with  a  hole  in  the  center,  so  that  it  could  be  Avorn  over 
one's  shoulders  like  a  cloak;  from  another  Avas  sus- 
pended a  huge  powder-horn;  and  on  a  third  hung  a 
rusty  carving-knife,  Avhich  one  of  Guy's  companions 
had  sold  to  him  Avith  the  assurance  that  it  Avas  a  hunt- 
ing-knife. Then  there  Avas  a  portion  of  an  old  har- 
poon Avhich  Guy  said  Avas  a  spear-head,  a  pair  of  Avell- 
Avorn  top-boots,  an  old  horse-blanket  and  a  clothes-lino 
Avith  an  iron  ring  fastened  to  one  end  of  it.     This  last  Guy 


THE  AFFAIR  OF  THE  MATCH-BOX.  \\ 

called  a  lasso.  He  spent  many  an  hour  in  practicing 
with  it,  whirling  it  around  his  head  and  trying  to  throw 
the  running  noose  over  a  stake  he  had  planted  in  the 
yard. 

One  corner  of  the  room  was  occupied  by  a  pile  of  old 
iron,  to  which  horseshoes,  broken  frying-pans  and 
articles  of  like  description  were  added  from  time  to 
time.  Whenever  this  j^ile  attained  a  certain  size  it 
would  always  disappear,  no  one  seemed  to  know  how 
or  when,  and  Guy  would  go  about  for  a  day  or  two 
jingling  some  coppers  in  his  pocket.  When  he  had 
handled  them  and  feasted  his  eyes  on  them  to  his  satis- 
faction, he  would  stow  them  in  an  old  buckskin  purse 
which  he  kept  in  his  trunk. 

In  another  corner  of  the  room  was  a  large  bag,  into 
which  Guy  put  everything  in  the  shape  of  rags  that  he 
could  pick  up  about  the  house.  When  filled  it  was 
empted  somehow,  and  Guy  had  a  few  more  coppers  to 
be  put  away  in  his  purse.  It  was  well  for  our  hero  that 
his  father  and  mother  did  not  know  what  he  intended 
to  do  with  the  moiey  he  earned  in  this  way. 

"  ISTobody  except  me  seej  any  sense  in  all  this,"  said 
Guy,  as  he  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  gazed  about 
the  room  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction.  "^  There  isn't  a 
thing  here  that  will  not  be  of  use  to  me  by  and  by. 
That  rubber  blanket  will  keep  me  dry  when  it  rains. 
That  230wder-horn  I  shall  have  filled  at  St.  Joseph  or 
Independence,  and,  as  a  rifle  requires  but  little  ammu- 
nition, it  will  hold  enough  to  last  me  during  a  year's 
hunting.  That  knife  will  answer  my  purpose  as  well  as 
one  worth  two  dollars  and  a  half,  for  I  can  sharpen  it,  and 
make  a  sheath  for  it  out  of  the  skin  of  the  first  bufl'alo  or 
antelope  I  kill.  I  must  sell  my  iron  again  before  long. 
How  the  fellows  laugh  at  me  because  I  am  all  the  while 
looking  out  for  old  horseshoes  and  such  things!  But  I 
don't  care.  I've  made  many  a  dime  by  it,  and  dimes 
make  dollars.  I  never  neglect  a  chance  to  turn  a 
penny,  but  I  haven't  yet  saved  a  quarter  of  what  I  need. 
I  found  half  a  dollar  the  other  day  by  keeping  my  eyes 


12  GUY  HARRIS. 

turned  down  as  I  walked  along  the  street^  and  that  was 
a  big  lift,  I  tell  you." 

As  Guy  said  this  he  opened  a  small  tool-chest  that 
stood  beside  the  pile  of  old  iron.  In  this  were  stowed 
away  a  variety  of  articles  he  had  jiicked  up  at  odd  times 
and  in  different  places,  and  which  he  thought  he  might 
find  useful  when  he  reached  the  prairie. 

There  was  a  small  bundle  of  wax-ends,  such  as  shoe- 
makers use.  These  would  come  handy  when  he  needed 
a  pair  of  good  leggings,  or  when  his  moccasins,  saddle, 
or  bridle,  got  out  of  repair.  There  were  several  iron 
and  bone  rings  he  could  use  in  making  lassos  or  martin- 
gales for  his  horse;  three  or  four  pounds  of  lead  for 
his  bullets,  and  a  ladle  to  melt  it  in;  half  a  dozen  jack- 
knives,  some  whole  and  sound,  others  broken  beyond  all 
hope  of  repair;  a  multitude  of  lines,  fish-hooks,  sinkers 
and  bobbers,  which  he  intended  to  use  on  the  mountain 
streams  and  lakes  of  which  he  had  read  so  much;  a  few 
steel-traps,  all  bent  and  Avorthless,  and  also  several  ''^fig- 
ure fours  "  which  he  had  made  so  as  to  have  them  ready 
for  use  when  he  reached  his  hunting-grounds.  In  this 
receptacle  Guy  jolaced  his  match-box,  congratulating 
himself  on  having  secured  another  valuable  addition  to 
his  outfit.  This  done,  he  bent  his  steps  toward  hi;; 
house. 

When  he  entered  the  dining-room  he  found  his  father 
and  mother  seated  at  the  table,  and  he  knew  by  the  ex- 
pression on  their  faces,  as  Avell  as  by  the  words  that  fell 
upon  his  ear,  that  there  was  a  storm  brewing.  His 
mother  had  been  relating  the  particulars  of  the  en- 
counter between  Henry  Stewart  and  George  "Wolcom, 
and  repeating  the  discussion  between  Guy  and  the  bully 
that  led  to  it,  all  of  which  she  had  seen  and  overheard 
from  her  chamber  window,  and  our  hero  came  in  just 
in  time  to  hear  her  declare: 

'•'  I  never  in  my  life  saw  boys  behave  so  disgracefully. 
Mrs.  Stewart  ran  out  of  the  house  and  tried  to  jnu  a 
stop  to  the  disturbance,  but  they  paid  not  the  least 
attention  to  her." 


THE  AFFAIR  OF  THE   MA  TCH-BOX.  13 

"Guj,"  said  Mrs.  Harris,  ^' where  is  that  article, 
whatever  it  is,  that  has  heen  the  cause  of  all  this 
trouble?" 

"  I  have  put  it  away,"  was  the  reply. 

"^  Go  and  get  it  immediately." 

Guy  retraced  his  steps  to  the  carriage-house,  and  tak- 
ing out  the  match-box,  carried  it  to  his  father,  who 
looked  at  it  contemptuously. 

''This  is  a  pretty  thing  to  raise  a  fight  about,  isn't 
it?"  he  exclaimed.     "Take  it  and  throw  it  away." 

"  But,  father,"  began  Guy. 

"Do  you  hear  me?"  demanded  Mr.  Harris  fiercely. 
"  Throw  it  away." 

Guy  knew  better  than  to  hesitate  longer.  Mr.  Harris 
was  a  stern  man,  and  in  his  efforts  to  "  bring  his  boy  up 
properly,"  sometimes  acted  more  like  a  tyrant  than  a 
father. 

Taking  the  box,  Guy  walked  out  of  the  door  and  dis- 
appeared behind  the  carriage-house. 

"I  will  throw  it  away,"  said  he  to  himself,  "but  I'll 
be  careful  to  throw  it  where  I  can  find  it  again.  [  never 
heard  of  such  injustice.  I  Avasn't  in  any  way  to  blame 
for  the  trouble,  for  I  didn't  ask  Hank  to  pitch  into 
George AYolcom  and  get  my  box  for  me;  and  neither  did 
Mrs.  Stewart  run  out  and  try  to  put  a  stop  to  the  fight. 
It  was  all  over  before  she  showed  herself.  But  that's 
just  the  way  with  all  step-mothers,  I  have  heard,  and  I 
know  it  is  so  with  mine.  She  runs  to  father  with  every 
little  thing  I  do,  and  seems  to  delight  in  having  me 
hauled  over  the  coals.  Ic  isn't  so  with  Ned.  He  can  do 
as  he  pleases,  but  I  must  walk  straight,  or  suffer  for  it. 
I  sha'n't  stand  it  much  longer,  and  that's  all  about  it. 
Stay  there  till  I  Avant  you  again." 

Guy  threw  the  box  into  a  cluster  of  currant  bushes  at 
the  back  of  the  garden,  and  after  noting  the  spot  where 
it  fell,  went  slowly  back  to  the  dining-room  and  sat  down 
to  his  dinner. 


CHAPTER   II. 

SOME   SCllAPS    OF    GUY'S   HISTOllY. 


MUST  say  before  I  go  further,  that  Clny 
Harris  is  not  an  imaginary  character.  He 
has  an  existence  as  surely  as  you  have,  boy 
reader.  He  is  to-day  an  active  professional 
man,  and  he  has  consented  to  have  the  story  of  his  boy- 
hood written  in  the  hope  that  it  may  serve  as  a  warning, 
should  it  chance  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  any  discon- 
tented young  fellow  who  is  tempted  to  do  as  ho  did. 

Guy  lived  in  the  city  of  ISTorwall — that  name  Avill  do  as 
well  as  any  other — on  the  shore  of  one  of  the  great  lakes. 
When  he  was  a  few  months  old  his  mother  died,  and  a 
year  afterward  his  father  married  again.  Of  course  Guy 
was  too  young  to  remember  his  lost  parent,  and  until  he 
was  fourteen  years  old  he  knew  nothing  of  this  little 
ej)isode  in  the  family  history.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harris 
never  enlightened  him,  because  they  feared  tliat  some- 
thing unpleasant  might  result  from  it.  Having  oftcr 
heard  the  boy  express  his  opinion  of  step-mothers  in  the 
most  emphatic  language,  and  declare  that  he  would  not 
live  a  day  under  his  father's  roof  with  a  stranger  to  rule 
over  him,  they  thought  it  best  to  allow  him  to  remain  in 
ignorance  of  the  real  facts  of  the  cas'e.  And  Guy  never 
suspected  anything.  It  is  true  that  he  was  sometimes 
sadly  puzzled  to  know  how  it  happened  that  he  had 
three  grandfathers,  while  all  the  boys  of  his  acquaintance 
had  only  two;  but  when  he  spoke  of  it  to  his  mother,  she 
always  had  the  headache  too  badly  to  talk  about  that  or 
anything  else. 

Guy  often  told  himself  that  his  mother  Avas  not  like 
other   boys^    mothers.     He    cherished    an    unl)ounded 


SOME  SCRAPS  OP  GUY'S  HI  STORY.  15 

afPection  for  her,  and  stood  ready  to  show  it  by  every 
means  in  his  power;  but  there  was  something  about  her 
that  kept  him  at  a  distance.  There  was  not  that  famili- 
arity between  him  and  his  mother  that  he  saw  between 
other  boys  and  their  mothers.  There  was  a  coolness  in 
her  demeanor  toward  him  that  she  did  not  even  exhibit 
toward  strangers.  There  was  a  wonderful  difference, 
too,  in  her  treatment  of  him  and  his  half-brother,  Ned, 
who  was  at  this  time  about  nine  years  of  age.  Ned 
came  and  went  as  he  pleased.  The  front  gate  was  no 
barrier  to  him,  and  he  always  had  a  dime  or  two  in  his 
pocket  to  spend  for  peanuts  and  chocolate  creams.  If 
he  wanted  to  go  over  to  a  neighbor's  for  an  hour's  visit, 
or  wished  to  spend  an  afternoon  skating  on  the  pond,  he 
applied  to  his  mother,  who  seldom  refused  him  permis- 
sion. If  Guy  desired  the  same  privilege,  he  was  told  to 
consult  with  his  father,  who  generally  said:  "No,  sir; 
you'll  meet  with  bad  company  there;"  or,  "  You'll 
break  through  and  be  drowned;"  or,  if  he  granted  the 
request,  he  would  do  it  after  so  mtich  hesitation,  and 
with  so  great  reluctance  that  it  made  an  unpleasant  im- 
pression on  Guy's  mind,  and  marred  his  day's  sport. 

At  last  a  few  scraps  of  the  family  history,  which  his 
parents  had  been  so  careful  to  keep  from  him,  came  to 
Guy's  knowledge.  Through  one  of  the  neighborhood 
gossips  he  learned,  to  his  intense  amazement,  that  Mr. 
Harris  had  been  twice  married;  that  his  first  wife  had 
lain  for  almost  fourteen  years  in  her  grave  in  a  distant 
State;  and  that  the  woman  who  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  who  so  closely  watched  all  liis  movements  during 
his  father's  absence,  and  whom  he  called  mother,  was 
not  his  mother  after  all.  Then  a  good  many  things 
which  hitherto  he  had  not  been  able  to  understand  be- 
came perfectly  clear  to  him.  He  knew  now  where  his 
three  grandfathers  came  from,  and  could  easily  account 
for  the  partiality  shown  his  half-brother,  Ned.  But  he 
wanted  proof,  and  to  obtain  it  laid  the  matter  before  his 
Aunt  Lucy,  who,  after  telling  him  how  sorry  she  was 
that  he  had  found  it  out,  reluctantly  confirmed  the 
story. 


16  GUY  iiAJ?JiIS. 

Guy  felt  as  if  he  were  utterly  alone  in  the  world  after 
this;  but  when  he  had.  thought  about  it  a  while,  he  took 
a  sensible  view  of  the  case.  He  loved  his  father's  wife, 
and  he  did  not  allow  the  facts  with  which  he  had  just 
been  made  acquainted  to  make  any  change  in  his  feel- 
ings or  demeanor  toward  her.  Indeed,  he  was  more 
attentive  to  her  than  before;  he  tried  to  anticipate  and 
gratify  her  desires  as  far  as  lay  in  his  power,  and  in 
every  Avay  did  his  best  to  please  her;  but  the  result  was 
most  discouraging.  With  all  his  efforts  he  could  not 
win  one  approving  word  or  smile.  His  mother  was 
colder  and  more  distant  than  ever,  and  from  that  time 
Guy's  home  was  somehow  made  very  uncomfortable 
for  him. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harris  were  good  people,  as  the  world 
goes.  They  were  prominent  members  of  the  church, 
and  held  high  positions  in  society.  Abroad  they  were 
as  agreeable  and  pleasant  as  people  could  be,  but  the 
atmosphere  of  home  grew  dark  the  moment  they  crossed 
the  threshold.  Mr.  Harris,  especially,  was  a  perfect 
thunder-cloud;  his  very  presence  had  a  depressing  effect 
upon  the  family  circle.  When  he  came  home  from  his 
place  of  business  at  night,  he  generally  had  something 
to  say  in  the  way  of  greeting  to  his  wife  and  Ned,  but 
Guy  was  seldom  noticed,  unless  he  had  been  doing  some- 
thing wrong,  and  then  more  words  were  devoted  to  him 
than  he  cared  to  listen  to. 

When  supper  Avas  over,  Mr.  Harris  sat  down  to  his 
paper,  and  until  ten  o'clock  never  looked  ujd  or  spoke. 
His  wife  sewed,  read  novels,  or  played  backgammon 
with  Ned,  and  Guy  was  left  to  himself.  His  father 
never  talked  to  him  about  his  sports  and  pastimes,  his 
boyish  trials,  disappointments,  hopes  and  aspirations,  as 
other  fathers  talk  to  their  sons.  He  never  allowed  him 
to  go  outside  the  gate — except  upon  very  rare  occasions 
— unless  he  was  going  to  school  or  was  sent  on  an  errand. 
He  never  gave  him  a  cent  to  spend  for  himself,  except 
on  Christmas,  when,  in  addition  to  making  him  numer- 
ous presents  (which  Guy  was  so  repeatedly  and  empliat- 


SOME  SCRAPS  OF  GUY'S  HISTORY.  17 

ically  enjoined  to  take  care  of  that  he  almost  hated  tliem 
as  well  as  the  giver),  he  opened  his  heart  and  jsresented 
him  with  a  quarter  of  a  dollar.  He  wasn't  going  to  ruin 
his  boy  by  giving  him  money,  he  said. 

Up  to  the  time  that  he  was  fourteen  years  old  Guy  had 
the  making  of  a  man  in  him.  He  was  smart,  honest, 
truthful,  generous  to  a  fault,  and  attentive  to  his  books, 
it  being  his  father's  desire,  as  well  as  his  own,  that  he 
should  enter  college.  I  wish  I  could  take  him  through 
my  story  with  all  these  good  traits  about  him;  but  can- 
dor compels  me  to  say  that  at  the  time  he  was  presented 
to  the  reader  he  was  a  different  sort  of  boy  altogether. 
In  the  neighborhood  in  which  he  lived  he  bore  an  excel- 
lent reputation.  People  called  him  a  good  boy,  referred 
to  the  fact  that  he  was  never  seen  prowling  about  the 
streets  after  dark,  and  spoke  of  the  promptness  Avith 
which  he  obeyed  the  commands  of  his  parents.  But  the 
truth  was  that  at  heart  Guy  was  no  better  than  any 
other  boy.  He  stayed  at  home  of  evenings,  not  because  it 
Avas  a  pleasant  place  and  he  loved  to  be  there,  but  for  the 
reason  that  he  was  not  allowed  to  go  out;  and  he  obeyed 
his  parents'  orders  the  moment  they  were  issued,  because 
he  knew  that  he  would  be  whipped  if  he  did  not.  All 
his  generous  imj)ulses  had  been  crushed  out  of  him  by 
the  stern  policy  pursued  by  his  father,  Avho  believed  in 
ruling  by  the  rod,  instead  of  by  love.  From  being  a 
frank,  honorable  boy,  above  doing  a  mean  action  and 
abhorring  a  lie,  Guy  became  sneaking  and  sly — so  sly 
that  it  was  almost  an  impossibility  to  fasten  the  guilt  of 
any  wrong-doing  upon  him.  He  learned  to  despise  his 
home,  with  its  thunder-clouds  and  incessant  reprimands 
and  fault-findings,  and  longed  to  get  off  by  himself 
somewhere — anywhere,  so  that  he  could  enjoy  a  few 
minutes'  peace.  He  had  hit  upon  a  plan  to  rid  himself 
of  his  troubles,  and  now  we  Avill  tell  what  it  was,  and 
how  it  resulted. 


CHAPTER  III. 

guy's  home  and  henry's. 

?^^^;;  S  CAN  well  be  imagined,  Guy  felt  very  sore 
^^M:  after  the  affair  of  the  match-box.  His  whole 
^^^  soul  rebelled  against  the  petty  tyranny  and 
h^  '  '1  injustice  of  his  father,  and  while  he  was  at 
school  that  afternoon  his  mind  dwelt  so  much  upon 
it  that  he  stood  "zero"  in  every  one  of  his  lessons,  and 
failed  so  miserably  in  his  philosophy  that  he  narrowly 
escaped  the  disgrace — and  it  was  considered  a  lasting 
disgrace  by  the  boys  belonging  to  the  Brown  Grammar 
School — of  being  kept  after  hours  to  commit  his  task. 

Wlien  four  o'clock  came  Guy  drew  a  long  breath  of 
relief,  and  chucked  his  books  under  his  desk  so  spite- 
fully that  he  made  a  great  deal  of  racket,  which  caused 
the  teacher  to  look  sharply  in  his  direction.  Guy, 
knowing  that  he  was  suspected,  turned  and  stared  at 
Tom  Proctor,  who  sat  next  behind  him,  as  if  to  say, 
"  There  is  the  guilty  one,"  and  Tom  gave  the  accusation 
a  fiat  denial  by  turning  about  and  looking  at  the  youth 
who  sat  next  behind  liim.  This  is  a  way  that  some 
school-boys  have  of  doing  business^  as  you  know.  In  a 
case  like  this  a  scholar  can  ' '  carry  tales  "  and  accuse  a 
school-mate  of  breaking  the  rules  without  saying  a  word. 
When  school  Avas  dismissed  Guy  was  the  first  one  out 
of  the  gate.  Some  of  the  Delta  Club  were  going  over  to 
their  grounds  to  engage  in  a  practice  game  of  ball,  and 
as  Guy  belonged  to  the  first  nine,  of  course  he  Avas 
expected  to  accompany  them;  but  he,  knowing  that  he 
must  first  go  home  and  ask  permissien  of  his  mother, 
Avhich  would  most  likely  be  refused,  replied  that  he  had 
something  else  to  do,  and  hurried  off  as  fast  as  his  legs 


GUY'S  HOME  AND  HENRY'S.  19 

could  cany  him.  Arriving  at  liis  father's  gate^,  he 
slackened  his  pace  and  walked  leisurely  through  the 
yard  into  the  garden.  He  went  straight  to  the  currant 
bush,  behind  which  he  had  thrown  his  match-box,  and 
finding  his  treasure  safe,  put  it  into  his  pocket  and 
returned  to  the  carriage-house.  When  he  thought  he 
could  do  so  without  being  seen  by  any  one,  he  bounded 
up  the  stairs,  entered  his  curiosity-shop,  and  noiselessly 
closing  the  door,  locked  himself  in. 

"\Now  then,"  he  exclaimed  with  a  triumphant  air, 
'•'  if  mother  and  ISTed  will  only  let  me  alone  for  about 
an  hour,  I  can  enjoy  myself.  I  haven't  seen  a  minute's 
peace  since  twelve  o'clock.  Father  thought  he  was  very 
sharp  when  he  ordered  me  to  throw  this  box  away,"  he 
added,  as  he  opened  the  small  tool-chest  and  dejDosited 
his  recovered  property  therein,  "  but  I  am  a  little  sharper 
than  he  is.  Whew!  wouldn't  I  get  my  jacket  dusted 
though,  if  he  knew  what  I  have  done?" 

As  G-uy  said  this,  he  unlocked  a  small  comj)artment 
in  the  tool-chest  and  took  out  a  book  bound  in  brown 
and  gold,  and  bearing  the  title,  "The  Boy  Trappers  of 
the  Platte."  Closing  the  chest,  and  seating  himself  upon 
it,  he  opened  the  book,  and  for  two  hours  reveled  in 
bear  fights,  adventures  with  the  Indians,  and  hunting 
and  trapping  scenes  without  number.  For  once  that 
day  he  was  supremely  hapjoy.  He  forgot  all  his  troubles, 
and  lived  only  among  the  imaginary  characters  and  amid 
the  imaginary  scenes  presented  to  him  on  the  printed 
page.  Two  or  three  times  while  he  was  thus  engaged, 
Ned  came  up,  tried  the  door,  and  called  to  him;  but 
Guy  only  stoj^ped  long  enough  to  flourish  his  fist  in  the 
air  with  a  significant  gesture,  as  if  he  would  have  been 
glad  of  a  chance  to  use  it  on  JSTed's  head,  and  then  went 
on  with  his  reading,  until  the  creaking  of  the  gate,  and 
the  sound  of  wheels  on  the  carriage-wa}',  told  him  that 
his  father  had  arrived. 

''  Dear  me,  how  provoking!" exclaimed  Guy,  jumping 
quickly  to  his  feet  and  putting  the  book  away  in  the 
tool-chest,     "^  Just  as  I  get  to  the  most  interesting  joart 


20  GUY  HARRIS. 

of  a  chapter,  I  must  be  interrupted.  I  wish  father  had 
stayed  away  ten  minutes  longer;  or,  better  than  that,  I 
wish  he  was  like  other  fathers,  and  would  let  me  take 
this  book  into  the  house  and  read  it  openly  and  above- 
board,  as  I  should  like  to  do.  He  is  so  opposed  to 
works  of  fiction  that  I  wonder  he  lets  Ned  read  Eobin- 
son  Crusoe.  He  talks  of  going  to  the  White  Mountains 
this  summer,  and  taking  mother  and  Ned  with  him, 
and  leaving  meat  home  to  punish  me  for  going  in  swim- 
ming the  other  day.  Don't  I  hope  he  will  do  it,  though? 
It  wouldn't  be  punishment  at  all,  if  he  only  knew  it. 
I'd  have  more  fun  than  I  have  seen  for  ten  years.  I'd 
read  every  book  in  Henry  Stewart's  library.'' 

Having  closed  and  locked  the  tool-chest,  Guy  went 
cautiously  to  the  window,  and  when  he  saw  his  father 
get  out  of  his  buggy  and  enter  the  house,  he  slipped 
quietly  out  of  the  room  and  down  the  stairs.  He  passed 
an  uncomfortable  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  supper- 
bell  rang,  strolling  about  the  yard  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  scarcely  knowing  Avhat  to  do  Avitli  himself. 
It  seemed  so  hard  to  come  back  to  earth  again  after  liv- 
ing for  two  hours  among  the  exciting  scenes  which  his 
favorite  author  had  created  for  his  amusement. 

Supper  over,  there  was  another  hour  to  be  passed  in 
some  way  before  the  gas  was  lighted.  His  father  talked 
politics  with  the  next-door  neighbor;  Ned  played  graces 
Avith  his  mother;  and  wide-awake,  restless  Guy  was  as 
usual  left  to  himself.  No  one  took  the  least  notice  of 
him.  He  must  have  something  to  do — it  Avasn't  in  him 
to  remain  long  inactive — and  as  there  Avas  a  strong 
breeze  bloAving,  he  thought  he  would  raise  his  kite.  He 
could  not  go  into  the  street  for  that  purpose,  so  he 
climbed  to  the  top  of  the  barn;  but  his  father  qiiickly 
discovered  him,  and  ordered  him  doAA'u. 

Then  he  tried  it  in  the  garden,  but  the  trees  Avere 
thick,  and  the  kite's  tail  Avas  ahvays  in  the  Avay.  It 
caught  in  a  cherry  tree,  and  as  Guy  Avas  about  to  mount 
among  the  branches  to  disengage  it,  his  father  again  in- 
terfered.    He  Avasn't  going  to  have  his  fine  ox-hearts 


2'^  GUV  HARRIS. 

broken  down  for  the  sake  of  all  the  kites  in  the  ■world. 

By  the  aid  of  the  step-ladder  Guy  finally  released  the 
kite,  and  made  one  more  attempt  to  raise  it,  this  time 
by  running  along  the  carriage-way;  but  by  an  unlucky 
step  he  left  the  point  of  his  boot  on  one  of  the  flower- 
beds, and  that  set  his  mother's  tongue  in  motion.  His 
father  heard  it,  and  turned  sharply  ujDon  him. 

"  Guy,"  said  he,  "^what  in  the  world  is  the  matter 
with  you  to-night?  Put  that  kite  away,  and  go  into  the 
house." 

Guy's  under  lip  dropj^ed  down,  and  with  mutterings 
not  loud,  but  deej:),  he  prepared  to  obey. 

His  father's  quick  eye  noticed  the  drooping  lip,  and 
his  quick  ear  caught  the  muttering. 

"^  Come  here,  sir,"  said  he  angrily. 

Guy  approached,  and  his  father,  seizing  his  arm  with 
a  grip  that  brought  tears  to  his  eyes,  shook  him  until 
every  tooth  in  his  head  rattled. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  going  into  the  sulks  when  I 
tell  you  to  do  anything?"  he  demanded.  "Straighten 
out  that  face!  Now,  then,"  he  added  after  a  moment's 
pause,  during  which  Guy  choked  back  his  tears  and  as- 
sumed as  pleasant  an  expression  as  could  be  expected  of 
a  boy  whose  arm  was  being  squeezed  by  a  strong  man 
until  it  was  black  and  blue,  "  go  into  the  house  and  stay 
there." 

The  father  could  compel  obedience,  but  his  son  was 
too  much  like  himself  to  be  easily  conquered.  He  could 
control  his  actions  as  long  as  he  was  in  sight,  but  he 
could  not  control  his  thoughts.  Guy's  heart  was  filled 
with  hate. 

"  This  is  a  fair  sample  of  the  manner  in  which  I  am 
treated  every  day  of  my  life,"  he  muttered  under  his 
breath  as  he  stowed  his  kite  away  in  its  accustomed 
place.  "They'll  think  of  it  and  be  sorry  some  day,  for 
if  I  once  get  away  from  hero  I'll  never  come  back.  I 
never  want  to  see  any  of  them  again.  I  can't  please 
them,  and  there  is  no  use  trying.  Nobody  cares  for  me, 
and  the  sooner  I  am  out  of  the  way  the  better." 


acrV'S  HOME  AND  HENRY'S.  23 

When  Guy  entered  the  sitting-room  he  found  his 
mother  there  reading  a  higlily-seasoned  novel  by  a  popu- 
lar sensational  writer,  and  Ned  deeply  interested  in 
'^'^Eobinson  Crusoe."  The  piano  was  open  and  Guy 
walked  to  it  and  sat  down.  There  was  a  piece  of  music 
upon  it,  entitled  "^Tis  Home  Where'er  the  Heart  Is." 
As  Guy  ran  his  fingers  over  the  keys  he  thought  of  all 
that  had  haj^pened  that  day,  and  told  himself  that  if 
those  words  were  true  his  home  was  a  long  way  from 
Norwall. 

"  That  will  do,  Guy,"  said  his  mother  suddenly.  "■  My 
head  aches,  and  it  is  not  necessary  that  you  should 
practice  now." 

Guy  began  to  get  desperate.  He  couldn't  sit  around 
all  the  evening  and  do  nothing — no  healthy  boy  could. 
He  went  to  the  library,  and  knowing  that  he  was  doing 
something  that  would  certainly  prove  the  occasion  of 
more  fault-finding,  took  a  book  from  some  snug  corner 
in  which  he  had  hidden  it,  and  sat  down  to  read. 

In  a  few  minutes  his  father  came  in.  He  picked  up 
his  paper  and  was  about  to  seat  himself  in  his  easy  chair 
when  he  caught  sight  of  Guy  and  stopped.  The  latter 
did  not  look  up,  but  watched  his  father  out  of  the  cor- 
ner of  his  eye. 

"  Guy,"  said  Mr.  Harris  sharply. 

"Sir!"  said  the  boy. 

*^What  have  you  there?" 

^' '  Cecil,' "  was  tlie  reply. 

"Cecil  who?     Cecil  what?" 

"That's  the  name  of  the  book." 

"Let  me  see  it." 

Mr.  Harris  took  the  volume  and  ran  his  eye  over  the 
pages,  while  a  look  of  contempt  settled  on  his  face. 
Had  he  taken  the  trouble  to  read  the  book  he  would 
have  found  that  it  was  the  history  of  a  youth  who  was 
turned  out  into  the  world  at  an  early  age  by  the  death 
of  his  parents;  that  it  described  the  trials  and  tempta- 
tions that  fell  to  his  lot,  and  told  how  he  made  a  man 
of  himself  at  last.     But  Mr.  Harris,  like  many  others, 


24  GUY  HARRIS. 

condemned  without  knowing  what  he  was  condemning. 

Three  words  on  the  title-page  told  him  all  he  cared 
to  know  about  the  work.  It  was  a  •'•'  Book  for  Boys." 
All  books  for  boys  were  works  of  fiction,  and  he  never 
intended  that  Guy  should  read  a  Avork  of  fiction  if  he 
could  prevent  it. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  demanded  Mr.  Harris. 

"  I  borrowed  it  of  Henry  Stewart.  His  father 
bought  it  for  him  last  week,  and  he  is  a  member  of  your 
church,  too,"  answered  Cluy,  seizing  the  opportunity  to 
put  in  a  home-thrust. 

"I  don't  care  if  he  is.  I  have  no  objection  to  your 
associating  with  Henry,  for  he  is  a  good  boy  in  some  re- 
spects, although  it  is  the  greatest  wonder  in  the  world 
to  me  that  he  hasn't  been  ruined  by  his  father's  igno- 
rance beyond  all  hope  of  redemption.  I  am  surprised 
at  Brother  Stewart — I  am  really.  What's  that  sticking 
out  of  your  pocket?" 

"It  is  a  copy  of  the  New  York  Magazine." 

"Let  me  see  it." 

Guy  handed  out  the  paper,  and  as  Mr.  Harris  slowly 
unfolded  it  the  sneer  once  more  settled  on  his  face.  He 
handled  the  sheet  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  as  if  he 
feared  that  the  touch  might  contaminate  him. 

"  '  ISTick  Whiffles!'  said  he,  reading  the  title  of  one  of 
the  stories.     "Who  is  he?     Who  owns  him?" 

"  I  borrowed  the  paper  of  Henry  Stewart.  His  father 
has  taken  it  for  years,  and  says  he  couldn't  do  with- 
out it." 

"I  don't  care  what  his  father  says.  His  opinions 
have  no  weight  with  me.     Who's  ISTick  Whiffles?" 

"He  was  a  famous  Indian-fighter  and  guide." 

"  Oh,  he  was,  was  he?  Well,  you  just  guide  him  out 
of  this  house,  and  never  bring  him  or  anybody  like  him 
here  again.  I  won't  have  such  trash  under  my  roof. 
Guy,  it  does  seem  as  if  you  were  determined  to  ruin 
yourself.  Don't  you  know  that  the  reading  of  such 
tales  as  this  unfits  you  for  anything  like  work?  Don't 
you  know  that  after  a  while  nothing  but  this  light  read- 
ing will  satisfy  you  ?" 


GUY'S  HOME  AiVn  HENRY'S.  25 

"No,  sir,  I  don't,"''  replied  Guy  boldly.  "Henry 
Stewart  told  me  that  lie  didn't  care  a  snap  for  history 
until  he  had  read  the  '  Black  Knight/  Through  that 
story  he  became  interested  in  the  manners  and  customs 
of  the  people  who  lived  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
he  wanted  to  know  more  about  them.  He  read  every- 
thing on  the  subject  that  he  could  get  his  hands  on, 
and  Professor  Johnson  says  he  is  better  posted  in  history 
than  half  the  teachers  in  the  public  schools. 

"And  all  through  the  reading  of  a  novel?"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Harris.  "  I  know  better.  There's  not  a 
word  of  truth  in  it.  This  bosh  has  a  very  different 
effect  upon  you  at  any  rate.  You  waste  all  your  sj^are 
time  u]3on  it,  and  the  consequence  is,  you  are  getting  to 
be  a  worthless,  disobedient  boy." 

"But,  father,  I  must  have  something  to  read." 

"  Don't  I  know  that;  and  don't  I  get  you  a  new  book 
every  Christmas?  Where's  that  volume  entitled 
'Thoughts  on  Death;  or.  Lectures  for  Young  Men,' 
that  I  bought  for  you  three  weeks  ago?  You  haven't 
looked  into  it,  I'll  warrant." 

Mr.  Harris  was  wrong  there.  Guy  had  looked  into 
it,  and  he  had  tried  to  read  it,  but  it  was  written  in  such 
language  that  he  could  not  understand  it.  At  the  time 
his  father  gave  him  this  book  he  had  presented  Ned 
with  a  box  of  fine  water-colors — the  very  thing  Guy  had 
long  wished  for.  Why  had  not  Mr.  Harris  consulted 
the  tastes  and  wishes  of  the  elder,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
younger  son? 

"Eeturn  that  book  and  paper  to  their  owner  at  once, 
and  don't  bring  anything  like  them  into  this  house 
again,"  repeated  Mr.  Harris. 

"  May  I  visit  with  Henry  a  little  while?"  asked  the 
boy. 

"  Well — I — y-es.  You  may  stay  there  a  quarter  of  an 
hour." 

"  It's  a  wonder,"  thought  Guy,  as  he  picked  up  his  cap 
and  started  for  Mr.  Stewart's  house.  "Why  didn't  he 
tell  me  that  home  is  the  place  for  me  after  dark?  That's 
the  reply  he  generally  makes." 


26  GUY  HARRIS. 

As  Guy  climbed  over  the  fence  that  ran  between  his 
father's  yard  and  Mr.  Stewart's  he  heard  a  great  noise 
and  hubbub,  lie  listened  and  found  that  the  sounds 
came  from  the  house  he  was  about  to  visit. 

As  he  drew  nearer  he  saw  that  one  of  the  window  cur- 
tains was  raised,  and  that  he  could  obtain  a  view  of  all 
that  was  going  on  in  Mr.  Stewart's  back  parlor.  The 
occupants  were  engaged  in  a  game  of  blind-man's  buff. 
Mr.  Stewart,  his  eyes  covered  with  a  handkerchief,  and 
his  hands  spread  out  before  him,  was  advancing  cau- 
tiously toward  one  side  of  the  room,  evidently  searching 
for  Henry,  who  had  squeezed  himself  into  one  corner, 
Avith  a  chair  in  front  of  him.  The  other  children  were 
probably  trying  to  divert  their  father's  attention,  for 
two  of  them  were  clinging  to  his  coat-tails,  while  the 
eldest  daughter  would  now  and  then  go  up  and  pull  his 
whiskers  or  pat  him  on  the  back.  Mrs.  Stewart  sat  in 
a  remote  corner  sewing  and  smiling  pleasantly,  seem- 
ingly unmindful  of  the  deafening  racket  raised  by  the 
players. 

"Humph!" said  Gruy,  ''it  will  be  of  no  use  for  me  to 
ask  Henry  to  go  with  me.  I  wouldn't  go  myself  if  I 
had  a  home  like  this.  How  would  my  father  look  with 
a  handkerchief  over  his  eyes,  and  JSTed  and  me  hanging 
to  his  coat-tails?  And  wouldn't  mother  have  an  awful 
headache  though,  if  this  was  going  on  in  her  house?" 

It  certainly  was  a  pleasant  scene  that  Guy  looked  in 
upon,  and  he  stood  at  the  window  watching  the  players 
until  he  began  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  Then  he 
mounted  the  steps  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

Mrs.  Stewart  admitted  him,  and  he  entered  the  parlor 
just  in  time  to  see  Henry's  father  Dounce  upon  him  and 
hold  him  fast. 

"  Aha!  I've  caught  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Stewart,  with 
a  laugh  that  did  one's  heart  good,  "'  and  now  we  had  bet- 
ser  stop,  for  we  are  arousing  the  neighbors.  Here's  Guy 
come  in  to  see  what's  the  matter." 

"No,  sir,"  replied  the  visitor,  "  I  just  came  over  to 
return  a  book  and  paper  I  borrowed  of  Henry." 


GUY'S  HOME  AND  IIEiYRY'S.  2? 

''Why,  you  haven't  read  them,  have  you?"  asked  his 
friend.      "  I  gave  them  to  you  only  yesterday/' 

"I  know  it;  but  father  told  me  to  bring  them  back. 
lie  won't  permit  me  to  read  them.  He  says  they  are 
nothing  but  trash." 

Henry  elevated  his  eyebrows  and  looked  at  his  father, 
who  in  turn  looked  inquiringly  at  Gruy. 

"Does  your  father  ever  read  the  New  York  Maga- 
zine ?"  asked  Mr.  Stewart. 

"No,  sir!"  replied  Guy  emphatically. 

"Ah!  that  accounts  for  it.  If  he  Avould  take  the 
trouble  to  look  at  it,  he  might  change  his  opinion  of  it. 
A  paper  that  numbers  ministers  among  its  contributors, 
that  advocates  temperance  and  reform,  and  shows  ujd 
the  follies  of  the  day  in  its  stories,  can't  be  a  very  dan- 
gerous thing  to  jDut  into  the  hands  of  the  youth  of  the 
land.  Here  is  an  article  by  a  minister  in  the  paper  we 
have  been  reading  to-night.  Take  it  over  and  show  it  to 
your  father." 

"I  wouldn't  dare  do  it,  sir,"  returned  Gruy  blushing. 
"  He  told  me  to  guide  Nick  "Whiffles  out  of  the  house, 
and  never  guide  him  in  again." 

"Oh,  that's  where  the  shoe  pinches,  is  it?  Well,  / 
think  Nick  very  good  in  his  place.  Indeed,  I  confess  to 
a  great  liking  for  the  old  fellow." 

"  He's  just  splendid,"  said  Henry. 

"All  work  and  no  play  makes  Jack  a  dull  boy,  you 
know,"  continued  Mr.  Stewart.  "  After  you  and  Henry 
have  sat  for  six  long  hours  on  your  hard  desk  at  school, 
a  game  of  ball  or  a  sail  on  the  lake  does  you  a  world  of 
good.  If  you  should  live  a  week  or  two  on  corn-bread 
and  bacon,  or  pork  and  beans,  you  would  be  glad  to  have 
a  piece  of  pie  or  cake,  wouldn't  you  ?  The  mind  requires 
recreation  and  change  as  much  as  the  body,  and  where 
can  you  find  it  if  it  be  not  in  a  good  story  by  some 
sprightly  author?  Of  course  the  thing  can  be  carried  to 
excess,  and  so  can  eating.  One  can  read  himself  into  an 
unhealthy  frame  of  mind  as  easily  as  he  can  gorge  him- 
self into  dyspepsia." 


28  GUY  HARRIS. 

When  Mr.  Stewart  had  said  t]iis  mucli  lie  stopporl  and 
took  lip  his  pajDer.  It  wasn't  for  him  to  criticise  or  jind 
fault  with  the  rules  his  neighbor  had  made  regarding  his 
son's  reading. 

Cluy,  having  an  object  to  accomplish  before  he  returned 
home,  and  knowing  that  time  was  precious,  declined  the 
chair  offered  him,  and  after  taking  leave  of  the  family, 
intimated  to  Henry  that  he  had  something  particular  to 
say  to  him.  The  latter  accompanied  him  to  the  fence, 
and  Guy  leaned  upon  it,  utterly  at  a  loss  how  to  broach 
the  subject  uppermost  in  his  mind. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

THE    READING    LESSOJ^". 

UY  DID  not  know  how  to  begin  the  conversa- 
tion. He  wanted,  to  approacli  the  subject 
gradually,  for  he  believed  that  some  little 
strategy  would  be  necessary  in  order  to  bring 
Henry  to  his  Avay  of  thinking,  but  somehow  the  words 
he  wanted  would  not  come,  and  seeing  that  his  friend, 
was  getting  impatient,  he  plunged  into  it  blindly: 

"  How  would  you  like  to  be  a  hunter  and  trapper?" 
he  asked. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  trapping,  but  I  like 
hunting  as  well  as  any  boy  in  the  world,"  said  Henry. 

"  I  mean  how  would  you  like  to  make  a  business  of 
it,  and  spend  your  life  in  the  Avoods  or  on  the  prairie?" 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I  am  going  to  try  it  a  little  Avhile 
this  fall.  Father  owns  some  land  in  Michigan  that  he 
has  never  seen,  and  about  the  first  of  September  he  and 
I  are  going  up  to  take  a  look  at  it.  His  agent  writes 
that  game  is  abundant,  and  I  am  going  to  buy  a  rifle  be- 
fore Ave  start." 

"■  Well,  if  I  had  a  chance  like  that  I'd  never  come 
back  again.     I'd  stay  in  the  Avoods." 

"  Oh,  my  father  Avouldn't  let  me." 

''  I  don't  suppose  he  Avonld,  but  you  could  do  as  I  in- 
tend to  do — run  away." 

Henry  straightened  up  and  looked  at  his  companion 
without  speaking. 

''Oh,  I  mean  it,"  said  Gruy  with  a  decided  nod  of  his 
head.  "  1  am  tired  of  staying  here.  I  am  weary  of 
this  continual  scolding  and  fault-finding,  and  am  going 
to  get  away  Avhere  I  can  take  a  little  comfort.     I  have 


30  GUY  HARRIS. 

always  wanted  to  be  a  hunter.  I  have  got  my  plans  all 
laid,  and  I  want  some  good  fellow  for  a  companion,  for 
1  should  be  lonely  if  I  were  to  go  by  myself.  Fd  rather 
have  yoa  than  anybody  else,  and  if  you  will  go  we'll 
take  the  '  Boy  Trappers "  with  us.  That  book  will  tell 
us  just  what  we  will  have  to  do.  It  tells  how  to  build 
wigwams,  how  to  trap  beaver  and  otter,  and  catch  fish 
through  the  ice;  how  to  make  moccasins,  leggings  and 
hunting-shirts;  how  to  catch  wild  horses;  how  to  pre- 
serve the  skills  of  wild  animals — in  fact,  everything  we 
want  to  know  we  will  find  there." 

"^  Where  do  you  want  to  go?''  asked  Henry. 

''  Out  to  the  Kocky  Mountains." 

'MVhat  will  you  do  when  you  get  there?" 

"^  We'll  hunt  and  trap  during  the  spring  and  fall,  and 
when  summer  comes  we'll  jump  on  our  horses,  take  our 
furs  to  the  trading-posts  and  sell  them." 

"And  what  will  we  do  during  the  winter?" 

"^  AVe'll  have  a  nice  little  cabin  in  some  pleasant  valley 
among  the  mountains,  such  as  the  boy  trapper  had,  and 
we'll  pass  the  time  in  curing  our  furs  and  fighting  the 
Indians.  That  is  what  they  did,  you  know,  I  tell  you. 
Hank,"  said  Guy  with  great  enthusiasm,  "  it  Avouldn't 
be  long  before  we  would  become  as  famous  as  either  Kit 
Carson  or  Captain  Bridges!  What's  the  matter  with 
you?"  he  added,  looking  suspiciously  at  his  friend,  who 
seemed  on  the  point  of  strangling. 

Henry,  who  had  listened  in  utter  amazement  to  what 
Guy  had  to  say,  could  control  himself  no  longer.  Cling- 
ing to  the  fence  Avith  both  hands  he  threw  back  his  head 
and  broke  out  into  a  shout  of  laughter  that  was  heard 
full  a  block  away. 

"  I  don't  see  anything  so  funny  about  it,"  said  Guy 
indignantly.      ''  1  am  in  earnest." 

"Oh,  dear!"' said  Henry,  after  he  had  lauglied  until 
his  jaws  and  sides  ached.  "  I  know  this  will  be  the 
death  of  me.  Why,  Guy,  what  in  the  Avorld  put  such  a 
ridiculous  notion  into  your  head?'' 

"  I  don't   call   it   a  ridiculous  notion.     If  the  bov 


THE  READING  LESSON.  31 

trappers  could  live  that  way  I  don't  see  why  we  couldn't. 
I  guess  we  are  as  smart  and  as  brave  as  they  were." 

This  set  Henry  to  going  again.  It  was  some  minutes 
before  he  could  sj^eak. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  book  is  true?"'  he  asked. 

'^  Of  course  I  do." 

"■  Why,  Gruy,  I  didn't  think  you  were  such  a  dunce. 
The  idea  that  three  boys,  the  oldest  of  them  only  seven- 
teen years  of  age,  could  live  as  they  did,  surrounded  by 
savage  beasts  and  hostile  Indians,  and  get  into  such 
scrapes  as  they  did,  and  come  out  without  a  scratch. 
Common  sense  ought  to  teach  you  better  than  that. 
Those  boy  trappers  never  had  an  existence  except  in  the 
brain  of  the  man  who  wrote  the  book." 

''  Then  why  did  he  write  it?"  demanded  Guy. 

"What  makes  you  play  base-ball  and  cricket,  and 
why  do  you  go  fishing  and  boat-riding  every  chance  you 
get?  Such  sports  are  not  necessary  to  your  existence — 
you  could  live  without  them — but  they  serve  to  fill  up 
the  time  when  you  don't  feel  like  doing  anything  else. 
That's  one  reason  why  books  like  '  Boy  Trappers '  are 
written — to  keep  you  in  the  house  and  help  you  while 
aAvay  a  leisure  hour  that  you  might  otherwise  spend  in 
the  streets  with  bad  boys.     Oh,  Guy!  Guy!" 

"  Now,  don't  you  begin  your  laughing  again,"  said  his 
companion. 

At  this  moment  a  door  ojiened  and  the  boys  heard  Mr. 
Harris  calling. 

''■  Guy!"  he  shouted. 

"^  Sir!"  was  the  response. 

''Come  in  now." 

"What's  tlie  matter?"  asked  Henry. 

"  Oh,  we  have  a  reading  lesson  every  night,  and  I 
have  to  help,"  replied  Guy  with  great  disgust.  "  We're 
reading  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  and  I 
despise  it.  I  can't  understand  half  of  it,  but  father 
makes  me  read  aloud  twenty  minutes  o^^&c^  night,  and 
scolds  because  I  can't  tell  him  the  meaning  of  all  the 
hard  words.  Now,  Hank,  are  you  going  with  me  or 
not?" 


32  GUY  HARRIS. 

"■  Of  course  I  am  not.  I'll  not  give  np  such  a  home, 
and  sucli  a  father  and  mother  as  I've  got  for  the  sake  of 
living  in  a  wilderness  all  my  life." 

"  Well,  you  won't  repeat  what  I  have  said  to  you,  will 
you  ?" 

"  No,  indeed;  but  you  must  promise  me  that  you  Avill 
give  up  that  idea." 

''All  right,  I  win." 

"  You'll  never  speak  of  running  away  from  home 
again,  or  even  think  of  it?'^ 

"  No,  I  never  will — honor  bright." 

"  Then  you  may  rely  upon  me  to  keep  your  secret. 
Now  I  have  a  plan  to  propose:  Let's  go  fishing  on  the 
pier  to-morrow — it's  Saturday,  you  know — and  talk  the 
matter  over.  I  can  convince  you  in  five  minutes  that 
yon  had  better  stay  at  home.  Come  over  early — say  five 
o'clock." 

"I'll  see  Avhat  father  says  about  it;  good-night.  I 
might  have  known  better  than  to  ask  him  to  go  with 
me,"  added  Guy  mentally,  as  he  walked  slowly  toward 
the  house.  "  If  I  had  as  pleasant  a  home  as  he  has  I 
wouldn't  go  either.  Why  don't  my  father  and  mother 
take  some  interest  in  me,  and  talk  to  me  as  iMr.  and  Mrs. 
Stewart  talk  to  Hank?  I  haven't  changed  my  mind, 
and  I  never  shall.  I  promised  that  I  would  never  again 
think  of  running  away  from  home,  but  I  did  it  just  to 
keej)  Hank's  mouth  shut.  As  long  as  he  thinks  I  have 
given  up  the  idea,  he  won't  say  a  word  to  anybody. 
He'll  be  astonished  some  fine  morning,  for  I  sliall  leave 
here  as  soon  as  I  can  scrape  the  money  together.  I  wish 
I  could  find  a  pocket-book  with  a  hundred  dollars  in  it. 
I'd  never  return  it  to  the  owner,  even  if  I  found  him.  I 
must  try  Bob  Walker  now." 

When  Guy  entered  the  sitting-room  he  found  his 
father  and  mother  waiting  for  him.  The  former  handed 
him  an  open  volume  of  Bancroft's  History  and  Guy, 
seating  himself,  began  reading  the  author's  elaborate 
descrijDtion  of  the  passage  of  the  Stamp  Act  and  the 
manner   in  which  it  was  received  by  the  colonists — a 


THE  READING  LESSOM.  33 

subject  in  which  he  was  not  in  the  least  interested.  His 
father  often  took  him  to  task  for  his  bad  reading  and 
pronunciation,  but  he  managed  to  get  tlirough  with  the 
required  twenty  minutes  at  hist,  and  with  a  great  feeling 
of  relief  handed  the  book  to  his  mother  and  moved  his 
chair  into  one  corner  of  the  room.  In  forty  minutes 
more  the  lesson  was  ended  and  Mr,  Harris  turned  to 
•question  Guy  on  what  had  just  been  read.  To  his  sur- 
]irise  and  indignation  he  saw  him  sitting  with  his  feet 
stretched  out  before  him,  his  chin  resting  on  his  breast 
and  his  eyes  closed.     The  boy  was  fast  asleep. 

''Guy I"  Mr.  Harris  almost  shouted. 

"Sir!"  replied  his  son,  starting  up  quickly  and  rub- 
bing his  eyes. 

"  This  is  the  way  you  give  attention  to  what  is  going 
on,  and  repay  the  pains  I  am  taking  to  teach  you  some- 
thing, is  it?"  demanded  his  father.  ''Do  you  think 
ignorance  is  bliss?  You  don't  know  anything  a  boy  of 
5^our  age  ought  to  know.  Tell  me  how  many  distinct 
forms  of  government  this  country  has  passed  through." 

'■'I  can't,"  rejDlied  Guy. 

"  Who  was  the  third  President  of  the  United  States?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"  Wliat  were  the  names  of  the  two  men  who  were 
hanged  in  eftigy  by  the  Massachusetts  colonists  when  the 
news  of  the  passage  of  the  Stamp  Act  was  received?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Guy  again. 

"  And  yet  that  is  just  what  we  have  been  reading 
about  to-night.  I  saw  a  picture  in  that  joaper  you  had 
in  your  possession  a  little  while  ago,"  continued  Mr. 
Harris  with  sup^jressed  fury.  "  It  was  a  man  dressed  in 
furs,  who  stood  leaning  against  a  horse,  holding  a  gun 
in  one  hand  and  stretching  the  other  out  toward  a  dog 
in  front  of  him.  Who  was  that  man  intended  to  repre- 
sent?" 

"  Jx'ick  Whiffles,"  said  Giiy  promptly. 

"  AYhat  was  the  name  of  his  dog?" 

"  Calamity." 

"Did  his  horse  have  a  name?" 


34  GUY  HARRIS. 

"  Yes,  sir — Firebug ;  and  he  called  his  rifle  Hum- 
bug. " 

' '  There  you  have  it !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Harris  with  a 
sneer.  "  You  know  all  about  that,  and  you've  no  busi- 
ness to  know  it  either,  for  it  will  do  you  more  harm  than 
good.  If  we  had  been  reading  that  trash  to-night  you 
would  have  been  wide  awake  and  listening  with  all  your 
ears ;  but  because  we  were  reading  something  worth 
knowing — something  that  would  be  of  benefit  to  you  in 
after  life,  if  you  would  take  the  trouble  to  remember  it 
— you  must  needs  settle  yourself  and  go  to  sleep.  Now, 
then,  draw  up  beside  this  table  and  read  five  pages  in 
that  history;  and  read  them  so  carefully,  too,  that  you 
can  answer  any  question  I  may  ask  you  about  them  to- 
morrow." 

Guy,  so  sleepy  that  he  could  scarcely  keep  his  eyes 
open,  staggered  to  the  chair  pointed  out  to  him  and  sat 
down,  wliile  his  father  once  more  picked  up  the  evening 
paper  and  his  mother  resumed  her  needle. 

When  he  had  read  the  required  number  of  pages  and 
looked  them  over  two  or  three  times  to  fix  the  names  and 
dates  in  his  memory,  he  arose  and  put  the  book  away  in 
the  library. 

"Father,"  said  he. 

"Don't  you  know  that  it  is  very  rude  to  interrupt  a 
person  who  is  reading?"  replied  Mr.  Harris,  looking  up 
from  his  paper.      "'  What  do  you  want?" 

"  May  I  go  fishing  with  Henry  Stewart  on  the  pier  to- 
morrow ?" 

"  No,  sir,  you  may  stay  at  home.  A  boy  who  be- 
haves as  you  do  deserves  no  privileges.  I  have  learned 
that  1  cannot  trust  you  out  of  my  sight." 

Knowing  that  it  would  not  be  safe  to  show  any  signs 
of  anger  or  disappointment,  Guy  kejDt  his  face  as 
straight  as  possible  and  turned  to  leave  tlie  room.  But 
when  he  put  his  hand  on  the  door-knob  his  father  called 
to  him. 

"  Guy,"  said  he,  "  where  are  you  going?" 

"  I  am  going  to  bed." 


THE  READING  LESSON.  35 

"  And  do  you  intend  to  leave  us  with  that  frown  on 
your  face  and  without  bidding  us  good-night?  One  or 
the  other  of  us  might  die  before  morning  and  then  you 
would  be  sorry  you  parted  from  us  in  anger.  I've  a  good 
mind  to  whip  you  soundly,  for  if  ever  a  boy  deserved  it 
you  do.     Come  back  here  and  kiss  your  mother." 

Almost  ready  to  yell  with  rage,  Guy  returned  and 
kissed  his  mother,  who  presented  her  cheek  without 
raising  her  eyes  from  her  novel,  bid  his  father  good- 
night, and  this  time  succeeded  in  leaving  the  room  with- 
out being  called  back. 

When  he  was  safe  out  of  his  father's  sight  he  turned 
and  shook  his  fist  at  him,  at  the  same  time  muttering 
something  between  his  clenched  teeth  that  would  have 
struck  Mr.  Harris  motionless  with  horror  could  he  have 
heard  it.  He  went  to  bed  with  his  heart  full  of  hate, 
and  not  until  his  mind  Avandered  off  to  other  matters, 
and  he  begun  to  dream  of  the  wild,  free  and  glorious 
life  he  expected  to  lead  in  the  mountains  and  on  the 
prairies  of  the  Far  "West,  did  he  recover  his  usual  spirits. 
He  fell  asleep  while  he  was  building  his  air-castles,  and 
awoke  to  hear  the  breakfast  bell  ringing  and  to  see  the 
morning  sun  shining  in  at  his  window. 

When  he  descended  to  the  dining-room  he  was  met  by 
Xed,  who  was  dressed  in  his  best,  and  who  informed  him, 
with  evident  satisfaction,  that  Henry  Stewart  had  been 
over  to  see  if  he  was  going  fishing,  and  that  his  father 
had  said  that  he  couldn't  go  to  the  pier  or  do  anything 
else  he  wanted  to  do  until  he  had  learned  to  behave 
himself.  Xed  added  that  he  and  his  father  and  mother 
were  going  to  ride  out  to  visit  Uncle  David,  who  lived 
nine  miles  in  the  country,  and  that  he  Guy,  was  to  be 
left  at  home  because  there  was  no  room  in  the  buggy  for 
him,  and  that  he  was  not  to  stir  one  step  outside  the 
gate  until  their  return. 

"  I'll  show  you  whether  I  will  or  not,"  said  Guy  to 
himself.  "  It's  a  pretty  piece  of  business,  indeed,  that 
I  am  to  be  shut  up  here  at  homb  while  the  rest  of  you  go 
off  on  a  visit.     I  won't  stand  it.     I'll  see  as  much  fun 


36  GUY  HARRIS. 

to-day  as  any  of  you,  and  if  I  only  had  all  the  money  I 
need,  you  wouldn't  find  me  here  when  you  return." 

Breakfast  over,  the  buggy  was  brought  to  the  door, 
and  Mr.  Harris,  after  assisting  his  wife  and  son  to  get 
in.  turned  to  say  a  parting  word  to  Guy. 

He  was  to  remain  in  the  yard  all  day,  bring  no  boys 
in  there  to  play  with  him,  and  be  very  careful  not  to  get 
into  any  mischief.  VL  these  commands  were  not  obeyed 
to  the  very  letter  there  would  be  a  settlement  between 
them  when  Mr.  Harris  came  back. 

Guy  drew  on  a  very  long  face  as  he  listened  to  his 
father's  words,  meekly  promised  obedience  and  opened 
the  gate  for  his  father  to  drive  out.  He  watched  the 
buggy  as  long  as  it  remained  in  sight  and  then,  closing 
the  gate,  jumped  up  and  knocked  his  heels  together, 
danced  a  few  steps  of  a  hornpipe,  and  in  various  other 
ways  testified  to  the  satisfaction  he  felt  at  being  left 
alone. 

"I  shouldn't  feel  sorry  if  I  should  never  see  them 
again,"  said  he.  ''I  am  my  own  master  to-day,  and  I 
am  going  to  enjoy  my  liberty,  too.  But  before  I  begin 
operations  I  must  put  Bertha  and  Jack  on  the  wrong 
scent.     They  would  blow  on  me  in  a  minute." 

Guy  once  more  assumed  a  very  sober  expression  of 
countenance,  and  walked  into  the  kitchen  where  the 
servant-girl  was  at  work. 

"Bertha,"  said  he,  "I  am  going  up  to  my  curiosity 
shop,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  disturbed.  You  needn't 
get  dinner  for  me,  for  I  sha'n't  want  any." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  replied  the  girl,  "  I  am  going  visit- 
ing myself  to-day." 

Guy  strolled  out  to  the  carriage-house,  and  here  he 
found  Jack,  the  hostler  and  man-of -all-work,  to  whom 
he  gave  nearly  the  same  instructions,  adding  the  request 
that  if  any  of  his  young  friends  called  to  see  him.  Jack 
would  say  to  them  that  Guy  had  gone  otf  somewhere, 
which,  by  the  way,  had  Jack  had  occasion  to  tell  it, 
would  have  been  nothing  but  the  truth. 

The  hostler   promised   compliance,  and  Guy,  having 


THE  READINC  LESSOI^T.  37 

thus  opened  the  way  for  the  carrying  ont  of  the  plans  he 
had  determined  upon,  went  np  to  his  curiosity  shop, 
locking  the  door  behind  him,  and  putting  the  key  into 
his  pocket.  He  lumbered  about  tlie  room  for  a  while, 
making  as  much  noise  as  he  conveniently  could,  to  let 
Bertha  and  Jack  know  that  he  was  there,  and  then 
stepped  to  the  window  that  overlooked  the  garden  and 
peej)ed  cautiously  out.  Having  made  sure  that  there 
was  no  one  in  sight,  he  crawled  out  of  the  window,  feet 
first,  and  hanging  by  his  hands,  dropped  to  the  ground. 
As  soon  as  he  touched  it  he  broke  into  a  run,  and  mak- 
ing his  Avay  across  the  garden,  scaled  a  high  board-fence, 
dropped  into  an  alley  on  the  opposite  side,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  more  was  two  blocks  away. 

"  There!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  slackened  his  pace  and 
wiped  his  dripj^ing  forehead  with  his  handkerchief;  '  *  that 
much  is  done,  and  no  one  is  the  wiser  for  it.  Now,  the 
first  thing  is  to  go  down  to  Stillman's  and  buy  a  copy  of 
the  Journal.  I  wrote  to  the  editors  of  that  paper  three 
Aveeks  ago,  telling  them  that  I  am  going  to  be  a  hunter, 
and  asking  what  sort  of  an  outfit  I  shall  need,  and  how 
much  it  will  cost,  and  I  ought  to  get  an  answer  to-day. 

"  The  second  thing  is  to  hunt  up  Bob  Walker  and  feel 
his  pulse.  He  once  told  me  that  he  would  run  away  and 
go  to  sea  if  his  father  ever  laid  a  hand  on  him  again,  so 
I  know  I  shall  have  easy  work  with  him.  He  won't  be 
as  pleasant  a  companion,  though,  as  Henry  Stewart,  for 
he  swears,  and  is  an  awful  overbearing,  quarrelsome 
fellow.  But  I  can't  help  it;  I  must  have  somebody  with 
me." 

A  walk  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  brought  Guy  to  Still- 
man's  news-depot,  where  he  stopped  and  purchased  a 
copy  of  the  paper  of  which  he  had  spoken.  Seeing  a 
vacant  chair  in  one  corner  of  the  store,  he  seated  himself 
upon  it,  and  with  trembling  hands  unfolded  the  sheet, 
looking  for  the  column  containing  the  answers  to  cor- 
respondents. When  he  found  it  he  ran  his  eye  over  it 
until  it  rested  on  the  following  paragraph: 


38   -  GUV  HARRIS. 

"An"  Abused  Dog. — If  you  are  going  to  become  a 
hunter  you  will  need  an  expensive  outfit.  A  good  rifle 
will  cost  from  $25  to  $75;  a  brace  of  revolvers,  from  $16 
to  $50;  a  hunting-knife,  $1.25  to  $3.50.  Then  you  will 
need  a  hatchet  or  two,  an  abundance  of  ammunition, 
blankets,  durable  clothing,  horse,  etc.,  which,  together 
with  your  fare  by  rail  and  steamer  to  St.  Josepn,  will 
cost  you  at  least  $200  more.  We  know  of  no  hunter  or 
trapi^er  to  whom  we  could  recommend  you,  and  neither 
can  we  say  whether  or  not  you  will  be  able  to  find  a 
wagon  train  that  you  could  join.  Now  that  we  have 
answered  your  questions,  we  want  to  offer  you  a  word  of 
advice.  Give  up  your  wild  idea,  and  never  think  of  it 
again.  As  sure  as  you  are  a  live  boy,  it  will  end  in  noth- 
ing but  disappointment  and  misery.  We  are  inclined  to 
believe  that  the  story  of  your  grievances  is  greatly 
exaggerated;  but  even  if  it  is  not,  you  cannot  better 
your  condition  by  running  away  from  home.  Your 
parents  have  your  welfare  at  heart,  and  if  you  are  wise 
you  will  remain  with  them,  even  though  their  require- 
ments do  sometimes  seem  harsh  and  unnecessary.  It 
may  be  that  you  will  some  day  be  left  to  fight  your  way 
through  the  world  Avith  no  father  or  mother  to  advise  or 
befriend  you,  and  then  you  will  find  how  hard  it  is. 
Take  our  word  for  it,  if  you  live  to  be  five  years  older, 
you  will  laugh  at  yourself  whenever  you  reflect  that 
you  ever  thought  seriously  of  becoming  a  professional 
hunter." 

Guy  read  this  paragraph  over  twice,  and  then  folded 
the  paper  and  walked  slowly  out  of  the  store. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A   SAIL   ON"   THE   LAKE. 

T  IS  beyond  my  power  to  describe  Guy's  feel- 
ings at  that  moment.  He  had  never  in  his 
life  been  more  grievously  disappointed.  It 
had  never  occurred  to  him  that  anybody  Avho 
knew  anything  would  discourage  his  project,  much  less 
the  editors  of  his  favorite  journal,  to  whom  he  had  made 
a  full  revelation  of  his  circu instances  and  troubles.  And 
then  there  was  the  expense,  which  greatly  exceeded  his 
calculations.     That  was  the  great  drawback. 

"Humph!"  soliloquized  Guy,  after  he  had  thought 
the  matter  over,  "the  man  who  wrote  that  article  didn't 
know  my  father  and  mother.  If  he  did,  he  wouldn't 
be  so  positive  that  everything  they  do  is  for  the  best.  I 
know  better,  and  won't  give  up  my  idea.  I  am  de- 
termined to  succeed.  There  are  plenty  of  men  who 
make  a  living  and  see  any  amount  of  sport  by  hunting 
and  trapj)ing,  and  why  shouldn't  I?  Kit  Carson  is  a 
real  man  and  so  is  Captain  Bridges.  So  is  Adams,  the 
great  grizzly  bear  tamer.  One  of  tliese  days,  when  I  am 
as  famous  as  they  are,  I  shall  laugh  to  think  I  did  be- 
come a  professional  huiiter.  But  the  money  is  what 
bothers  me  now.  I  shall  iieed  at  least  three  hundred 
dollars.  Great  Cfesar!  Where  am  I  to  get  it?  I've 
worked  and  scraped  and  saved  for  the  last  six  months, 
and  I've  got  just  fifteen  dollars.  That  isn't  enough  to 
buy  a  rifle.  Where  is  the  rest  to  come  from?  That's 
the  question." 

Gay  walked  along  with  his  hands  behind  his  back  and 
his  eyes  fastened  thoughtfully  on  the  ground,  revolving 
this  problem  in  his  mind.     His  prospects  did  not  look 


40  GUY  BARKIS. 

nearly  so  bright  now  as  they  did  an  hour  ago.  He  was 
learning  a  lesson  we  all  have  to  learn  sooner  or  later, 
and  that  is  that  we  cannot  always  have  things  as  we 
want  them  in  this  world,  and  tliat  the  best  laid  schemes 
are  often  defeated  by  some  unlooked-for  event.  Three 
hundred  dollars!  He  never  could  earn  that  amount. 
His  rags  brought  him  bui  two  cents  a  pound,  and 
although  he  kept  a  sharp  lookout  and  pounced  upon 
every  piece  of  cloth  he  found  lying  about  the  house,  it 
sometimes  took  him  a  whole  month  to  fill  his  bag,  Avhich 
held  just  five  pounds.  Old  iron  was  worth  only  a  cent  a 
pound,  and  business  in  this  line  was  beginning  to  get 
very  dull,  for  he  had  not  found  a  single  horseshoe  during 
the  last  two  weeks,  and  he  had  jiurchased  the  last  thing 
in  the  shape  of  broken  frying-pans  and  battered  kettles 
that  any  of  his  companions  had  to  dispose  of.  He  must 
find  some  other  way  to  earn  money.  He  had  thought 
of  carrying  papers,  which  would  add  a  dollar  and  a 
quarter  a  week  to  his  income,  besides  what  he  would 
make  out  of  his  Carriers'  Addresses  on  New  Years.  But 
Mr.  Harris  had  vetoed  that  plan  the  moment  it  was  pro- 
posed. 

Gruy  did  not  know  what  to  do  next. 

"  Dear  me,  am  I  not  in  a  fix?"  he  asked  himself.  "  I 
read  in  the  paper  the  other  day  of  a  boy  picking  up  five 
thousand  dollars  that  some  banker  dropped  in  the  street. 
Why  wasn't  I  lucky  enough  to  find  it?  That  banker 
might  have  whistled  for  his  money  when  once  I  got  my 
hands  upon  it.  I  must  have  three  hundred  dollars  and 
I  don't  care  how  I  get  it." 

Guy  was  gradually  working  himself  into  a  very  danger- 
ous frame  of  mind.  When  one  begins  to  talk  to  him- 
self in  this  way  it  needs  only  the  opportunity  to  make  a 
thief  of  him.  If  Guy  thought  of  this,  he  did  not  care, 
for  he  continued  to  reason  tlius,  and  was  not  at  all 
alarmed  when  a  daring  j^roject  suddenly  suggested  itself 
to  him.  Twenty-four  hours  ago  he  would  not  have 
dared  to  ponder  upon  it ;  but  now  he  allowed  his 
thoughts  to  dwell  upon  it,  and  the  longer  he  turned  it 


J  SAIL  ON-  THE  LAKE.  41 

over  in  his  mind  the  more  firmly  he  became  convinced 
that  it  was  a  splendid  idea  and  that  it  could  be  success- 
fully carried  out.  He  wanted  to  get  away  by  himself 
and  look  at  the  mattei-  in  all  its  bearings.  AYith  this 
object  in  view  he  turned  down  Erie  Street  and  bent  his 
steps  toward  Buck's  boat-house,  intending  to  spend  an 
hour  or  two  on  the  lake.  In  that  time  he  believed  he 
could  make  up  his  mind  what  was  best  to  be  done. 

Arriving  at  the  boat-house,  Guy  entered  and  accosted 
the  proprietor,  who  stood  behind  his  bar  dispensing 
liquor  and  cigars  to  a  joarty  of  excursionists  who  had  just 
returned  from  a  sail  on  the  lake. 

"^  Mr.  Buck,  is  the  Quail  in?''  asked  Guy,  giving  the 
name  of  his  favorite  sail-boat. 

"Yes,  she  is,"  replied  a  voice  at  his  elbow;  '*'but  Avhat 
do  you  want  with  her?" 

Guy  recognized  the  voice  and  turned  to  greet  the 
speaker.  He  was  a  boy  about  his  own  age,  who  sat 
cross-legged  in  an  arm-chair  beside  the  door,  his  hat 
pushed  on  the  side  of  his  head  rowdy  fashion,  one  hand 
holding  a  copy  of  a  sporting  paper,  and  the  other  a 
lighted  cigar,  at  which  he  was  puffing  industriously. 
His  name  was  Eobert  Walker.  He  Avas  a  low-browed, 
black-haired  fellow,  and  although  by  no  means  ill-look- 
ing, there  was  something  in  his  face  that  would  have 
told  a  stranger  at  the  first  glance  that  he  was  what  is 
called  a  ''hard  customer."  And  his  looks  were  a  good 
index  of  his  character  and  reputation.  He  was  known 
as  one  of  the  worst  boys  in  the  neighborhood  in  which 
Guy  lived.  Parents  cautioned  their  sons  against  asso- 
ciating with  him,  for  he  would  fight,  smoke,  swear  like 
any  old  sailor,  and  it  was  even  whispered  about  among 
the  boys  belonging  to  the  Brown  Grammar  School  that 
he  had  been  seen  rather  the  worse  for  the  beer  he  had 
drank.  But  Guy  had  always  admired  Bob;  he  was  such 
a  free  and  easy  fellow!  Besides,  he  knew  so  much  that 
boys  of  his  age  have  no  business  to  know,  that  he  was 
looked  upon  even  by  such  youths  as  Henry  Stewart  as  a 
sort  of  oracle.     He  and  Guy  represented  two  different 


42  GUY  HARRIS. 

classes  of  boys — one  having  been  spoiled  by  excessive 
indulgence,  and  the  other  by  unreasonable  severity. 

Eobert's  father  was  Mr.  Harris'  cashier  and  book- 
keeper, and  the  two  families  would  have  been  intimate 
had  not  Bob  been  in  the  way.  The  fathers  and  mothers 
visited  frequently,  but  the  boys  never  did;  their  loarents 
always  tried  to  keep  them  apart.  But  in  spite  of  this 
they  were  often  seen  together  on  the  streets,  and  a  sort 
of  friendship  had  sjDrnng  up  between  them.  This  was 
the  boy  Guy  wanted  for  a  companion  on  his  runaway 
expedition,  now  that  Henry  Stewart  had  declined  his 
invitation. 

"The  Quail  is  in,"  continued  Bob,  extending  his 
hand  to  Griiy,  who  shook  it  cordially,  ''but  you  are  just 
a  minute  too  late.  Mr.  Buck  is  going  to  get  her  out  for 
me  as  soon  as  he  is  done  serving  these  gentlemen.  How- 
ever, seeing  it  is  you,  I'll  take  you  along,  and  we  can 
divide  the  expenses  between  us." 

''All  right,"  replied  Guy.  "Do  you  know  that  you 
are  just  the  fellow  I  want  to  see?" 

"Anything  particular?"  asked  Bob,  knocking  the 
ashes  from  his  cigar. 

"  Yes,  very  particular." 

"  Well,  that's  curious.  During  the  last  week  I  have 
had  something  on  my  mind  that  I  Avanted  to  speak  to 
you  about — it's  a  secret,  too,  and  one  that  I  wouldn't 
mention  to  any  fellow  but  you — but  somehow  I  couldn't 
raise  courage  enough  to  broach  the  subject.  We'll  go 
out  on  the  lake  where  Ave  can  say  Avhat  Ave  please  Avithout 
danger  of  being  overheard.  Let's  take  a  drink  before 
we  go.     Come  on." 

"I  am  obliged  to  you,"  answered  Guy,  "but  I  never 
drink." 

"Take  a  cigar,  then." 

"No,  I  doii't  smoke." 

"Nonsense.  Be  a  man  among  men.  Give  me  some 
beer,  Mr.  Buck.  Take  a  glass  of  soda,  Guy.  That 
won't  hurt  you,  and  it  is  a  temperance  drink,  too." 

Guy  leaned  his  elboAvs  on  the  counter  and  thought 


A  SAIL  OjV  the  lake.  43 

about  it.  This  was  a  temptation  that  he  had  never  been 
subjected  to  before.  What  would  his  father  say  if  he 
yielded  to  it?  But,  on  the  whole,  what  diiference  did  it 
make  to  him  whether  his  father  liked  it  or  not?  He  was 
going  away  from  home  to  be  a  hunter,  and  from  what  he 
had  read  he  inferred  that  hunters  did  not  refuse  a  glass 
when  it  was  offered  to  them.  If  he  was  going  among 
Eomans,  and  expected  to  hold  a  high  place  among  them, 
he  must  follow  their  customs.  So  he  said  he  would  take 
a  bottle  of  soda,  and  when  it  was  poured  out  for  him  he, 
not  understanding  the  etiquette  of  the  bar-room, 
watched  Bob  and  followed  his  motions — bumped  his 
glass  on  the  counter,  said  ''  Here  are  my  kindest 
regards,"  and  drank  it  off. 

"Nov/,"  said  Bob,  smacking  his  li]DS  over  his  beer, 
"we're  all  ready.  I've  got  half  a  dollar's  worth  of  cigars 
in  my  pocket,  and  they  will  last  us  until  we  get  back." 

The  boys  followed  Mr.  Buck  out  of  the  house,  and 
along  a  narrow  wooden  joier,  on  each  side  of  which  Avere 
moored  a  score  or  more  of  row  and  sail-boats  of  all  sizes 
and  models.  When  they  reached  the  place  where  the 
Quail  was  lying  they  clambered  down  into  her,  Mr.  Buck 
cast  off  the  painter,  and  the  little  vessel  moved  away. 
Gruy  never  forgot  the  hour  he  spent  on  the  lake  that  day. 
A  week  afterward  he  Avould  have  given  the  world,  had 
he  possessed  it,  to  be  able  to  wipe  it  out  or  live  it  over 
again. 

As  the  harbor  was  long  and  narrow  and  the  wind  un- 
favorable, considerable  maneuvering  was  necessary,  and 
for  the  first  few  minutes  the  attention  of  Guy  and  his 
companion  was  so  fully  occupied  with  the  management 
of  their  craft  that  they  could  find  no  opportunity  to  be- 
gin the  discussion  of  the  subject  uppermost  in  their 
minds.  But  when  they  rounded  the  light-house  pier 
and  found  themselves  fairly  on  the  lake,  Bob  resigned 
the  helm  to  Guy,  and  relighting  his  cigar,  which  he  had 
allowed  to  go  out,  stretched  himself  on  one  of  the 
thwarts,  and  intimated  that  he  was  ready  to  listen  to 
what  his  friend  had  to  say,  adding  : 


44  GUY  BA/^I^/S. 

"Yon  may  think  it  strange,  but  I  believe  I  can  tell 
you,  before  you  begin,  what  you  want  to  talk  about." 

''You  can!"  exclaimed  Guy.  "What  makes  you 
think  so?" 

"  The  way  you  act,  and  the  pains  you  are  taking  to 
make  money.  Does  your  father  know  that  you  are  a 
dealer  in  rags  and  old  iron?" 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  I  thought  so.  "What  do  you  want  with  the  little 
money  you  are  able  to  make  in  that  way?  You  don't 
see  any  pleasure  Avith  it,  for  you  never  spend  a  cent. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  powder-horn  you've 
got  hung  up  in  your  curiosity  shop?  It  is  of  no  use  to 
you,  for  your  father  won't  allow  you  to  own  a  gun. 
And  then  there's  that  lead  bullet-ladle,  rubber  blanket, 
and  cheese-knife.  They  are  not  worth  the  room  they 
occupy  as  long  as  you  stay  here.  But  you  are  laying 
your  plans  to  run  away  from  home,  young  man — that's 
what  you  are  up  to.  Indeed,  you  have  almost  as  good 
as  said  so  in  my  hearing  two  or  three  different  times." 

"  Well,  it's  a  fact,  and  there's  no  use  in  denying  it," 
said  Guy.     "  You  won't  blow  on  me?" 

"  Certainly  not.  That's  just  what  1  wanted  to  see 
about,  for  I  am  going  to  do  the  same  thing  myself." 

"Are  you?  Give  us  your  hand.  We'll  go  together. 
I'm  going  to  be  a  hunter." 

"I  know  you  are;  I've  heard  you  say  so.  I  had 
some  idea  of  Isecoming  a  sailor,  but  since  I  have  thought 
the  matter  over  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  your 
plan  is  the  best.  If  one  goes  to  ,sea  he  has  to  work 
whenever  he  is  ordered,  whether  he  feels  likes  it  or  not; 
but  if  he  lives  in  the  woods  he  is  his  own  master,  and 
can  do  as  he  pleases.  Have  3'ou  any  definite  plan  in 
your  head?" 

"  Yes.  As  soon  as  I  get  money  enough.  I  am  going 
to  step  aboard  a  propeller  some  dark  night  and  go  to 
Chicago.  I  can  travel  cheaper  b}'  water  than  1  can  by 
land,  you  know,  and  money  is  an  object,  I  tell  you. 
From  Chicago  I  shall  go  to  fSt.  JosejDh,  purchase  a  horse 


A   SAIL  ON-  THE  LAKE.  45 

and  whatever  else  I  may  need,  join  some  wagon  train 
that  is  going  to  California,  and  when  I  reach  the  monnt- 
ains  and  find  a  place  that  suits  me,  I'll  stop  there  and 
go  to  hunting." 

"  That's  a  sj)lendid  plan,"  said  Bob  with  enthusiasm. 
"  It  is  much  better  than  going  to  sea.  When  do  you 
intend  to  start?" 

''Ah I  that's  just  what  I  don't  know.  I  find  by  a 
paper  I  bought  this  morning  that  I  shall  need  at  least 
three  hundred  dollars;  and  that's  more  than  I  can  ever 
raise." 

"  By  a  paper  you  bought!"  repeated  Bob. 

''Yes;  there  it  is,"  said  Guy,  taking  it  from  his 
pocket  and  tossing  it  toward  his  companion.  "You  see 
I  wrote  to  the  editors,  telling  them  just  how  I  am  situ- 
ated and  what  I  intend  to  do,  and  they  answered  my 
letter  this  week.  Look  for  'An  Abused  Boy'  in  the 
correspondents'  column,  and  you  will  see  what  they 
said." 

After  a  little  search  Bob  found  the  paragraph  in 
question,  and  settled  back  on  his  elbow  to  read  it. 

When  he  finished,  the  opinion  he  expressed  concern- 
ing it  was  the  same  Guy  had  formed  when  he  first 
read  it. 

"It  is  rather  discouraging,  isn't  it?"  asked  the  latter. 

"  Xot  to  me,"  answered  Bob.  "  These  editors  don't 
know  any  more  than  anybody  else.  Why  should  they? 
In  the  first  place  the  man  who  wrote  this  is  not 
acquainted  with  our  circumstances;  and  in  the  next,  he 
is  not  so  well  posted  on  the  price  of  some  things  as  I  am. 
He  says  a  rifle  will  cost  twenty-five  dollars.  Pat  Smith 
has  a  cart-load  of  them,  good  ones,  too,  that  you  can 
buy  for  twelve  dollars  apiece." 

"Is  that  so?"  asked  Guy. 

"Yes;  and  after  we  get  through  with  our  sail  we'll 
go  around  and  look  at  them.  He  has  hunting-knives, 
which  he  holds  at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter.  I  know,  be- 
cause I  asked  the  price  of  them.  Blankets  are  not 
worth  more  than  five  dollars  per  pair;  and  if  you  take 


46  GUY  HARRIS. 

Steerage  passage  on  the  steamer  and  a  second-class 
ticket  from  Chicago  yon  can  go  throngh  to  St.  Joseph 
for  twenty-five  dollars.  Then  how  are  you  going  to 
spend  the  rest  of  your  three  hundred?  Not  for  a  horse, 
certainly;  for  I  have  heard  father  say  tliat  when  he 
went  to  California  in  "49  he  bought  a  very  good 
mustang  for  thirty  dollars.  However,"  added  Bob,  "  it 
will  be  well  enough  to  have  plenty  of  money,  for  we 
don't  want  to  get  strapped,  you  know." 

"But  where  is  it  to  come  from?"'  asked  Guy, 

"I  know.  I  have  been  thinking  it  over  during  the 
last  week,  and  I  know  just  how  to  go  to  work.  Per- 
haps you  won't  like  it,  and  if  you  don't  you  can  go  your 
way  and  I'll  go  mine.  Here,  smoke  a  cigar  while  I  tell 
you  about  it." 

"'No,  no  I  I  can't  smoke." 

"What  will  you  do  when  we  are  in  the  mountains? 
There'll  be  plenty  of  stormy  days  when  we  can't  hunt 
or  trap,  and  you'll  need  a  pipe  or  cigar  for  company," 

"It  wall  be  time  enough  for  me  to  learn  after  I  get  to 
be  a  hunter." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well,"  returned  Bob,  after  a 
moment's  reflection.  "  If  I  carry  out  my  plans  you 
will  have  to  help  me,  and  you  will  need  a  clear  head  to 
do  it.     Listen  now  and  I  Avill  tell  you  what  they  are.'' 

Bob  once  more  settled  back  on  his  elbow,  and  to  Guy's 
intense  amazement  proceeded  to  unfold  the  details  of 
the  very  scheme  for  raising  funds  wdiich  he  himself  had 
had  in  contemplation  Avhen  he  came  to  Mr.  Buck's  boat- 
house,  and  which  Bob  proposed  should  be  put  into  ex- 
ecution at  once,  that  very  day. 

Guy  trembled  with  excitement  and  apprehension 
while  he  listened,  and  nothing  but  the  coolness  and  con- 
fidence with  which  his  companion  spoke  kept  him  from 
backing  out.  He  had  always  imagined  that  the  day  for 
the  carrying  out  of  his  wild  idea  was  in  the  far  future, 
and  from  a  distance  he  could  think  of  it  calndy:  but  if 
Bob's  plans  wei'e  successful  tliey  would  be  miles  and 
miles  away  ere  the  next  morning's  sun  arose,  and  with 
the  brand  of  tliief  upon  their  brows. 


A  SAIL  ON  THE  LAKE.  47 

He  begun  to  realize  now  what  running  away  meant. 
He  did  not  once  think  of  his  home — there  was  scarcely 
a  pleasant  reminiscence  connected  with  it  that  he  could 
recall — but  now  that  the  great  world  into  which  he  had 
longed  to  throw  himself  seemed  so  near,  he  shrunk  back 
afraid.     This  feeling  quickly  passed  away. 

The  wild,  free  life  of  which  he  had  so  often  dreamed 
seemed  so  bright  and  glorious,  and  his  present  manner 
of  living  seemed  so  dismal  b}'  contrast  that,  feeling  as 
he  did,  he  could  not  be  long  in  choosing  between  them. 
He  fell  in  with  Bob's  plans  and  caught  not  a  little  of  his 
enthusiasm.  He  even  marked  out  the  part  he  Avas  to 
play  in  the  scene  about  to  be  enacted,  making  some  sug- 
gestions and  amendments  that  Bob  was  prompt  to 
adopt. 

The  matter  was  all  settled  in  half  an  hour  later,  and 
the  Quail  came  about  and  stood  toward  the  pier.  When 
she  landed  and  the  boys  entered  the  boat-house.  Bob  re- 
minded Guy  that  it  was  his  turn  to  stand  treat.  The 
latter  was  prompt  to  respond,  and  won  a  nod  of  ap- 
proval from  his  companion  by  calling  for  a  glass  of 
beer. 

Having  settled  their  bill  at  the  boat-house  the  boys 
started  for  the  gunsmith's.  There  they  spent  twenty 
minutes  in  looking  at  the  various  weajoons  and  ac- 
couterments  they  thought  they  might  need  during  their 
career  in  the  mountains,  and  Bob  excited  the  astonish- 
ment of  his  friend  by  selecting  a  couple  of  rifles,  as 
many  hunting-knives,  powder-horns,  bullet-pouches 
and  revolvers,  and  requesting  the  gunsmith,  with  whom 
he  seemed  to  be  well  acquainted,  to  put  them  aside  for 
him,  promising  to  call  in  an  hour  and  pay  for  them. 

"Isn't  that  carrying  things  a  little  too  far?"  asked 
Guy  when  they  were  once  more  on  the  street.  "What 
if  we  should  slip  up  in  our  arrangements?" 

"  But  I  don't  intend  to  slip  up,"  returned  Bob  confi- 
dently. "  There's  no  need  of  it.  Why,  Guy,  what 
makes  your  face  so  pale?" 

"  I  feel  nervous,"  replied  the  latter  honestly. 


48  GUY  HARRIS. 

"  Now  don^t  go  to  giving  a\vay  to  such  feelings,  for 
if  yon  do  you  will  spoil  everything.  Eemember  that 
our  success  depends  entirely  upon  you.  If  I  fail  in 
doing  my  part  the  fault  will  be  yours.  But  I  must 
leave  you  here,  for  it  won't  be  safe  for  us  to  be  seen  to- 
gether. If  you  are  going  to  back  out  do  it  now  before 
it  is  too  late." 

"I'm  not  going  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  I'll 
stick  to  you  through  thick  and  thin." 

"  All  right.  Remember  now  that  when  the  South 
Church  clock  strikes  one  I  will  be  on  the  corner  above 
your  fatlier's  store,  and  shall  expect  to  find  you  there  all 
ready  to  start. 

"  You  may  depend  upon  me,"  replied  Guy.  "  I'll  be 
there  if  I  live." 

The  two  boys  separated  and  moved  away  in  nearly  op- 
posite directions,  their  feelings  being  as  widely  different 
as  the  courses  they  were  pursuing.  Bob,  cool  and  care- 
less, walked  off  whistling,  stopping  now  and  then  to  ex- 
change a  pleasant  nod  with  an  acquaintance,  while  Guy 
was  as  pale  as  a  sheet  and  trembled  in  every  limb.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  ev3i'y  one  he  met  looked  sharply  at 
him,  and  with  an  expression  which  seemed  to  say  his 
secret  was  known.  He  felt  like  a  criminal;  and  actu- 
ated by  a  desire  to  get  out  of  sight  of  everybody,  and 
that  as  speedily  as  possible,  he  broke  into  a  run,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  reached  his  home. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A   K'AREOW    ESCAPE. 

ALKIISTG  rapidly  along  the  alley  that  ran  be- 
hind his  father's  garden  Gny  climbed  the 
fence,  dropped  down  into  a  thicket  of  bushes, 
^  and  stopped  to  take  a  survey  of  the  premises. 
There  was  no  one  in  sight,  and  having  fully  satisfied 
himself  on  this  point  he  crept  stealthily  into  the  car- 
riage-house and  up  the  stairs  to  his  curiosity  shop.  Lock- 
ing the  door  behind  him  he  took  down  from  one  of  the 
nails  a  dilapidated  valise,  which  he  had  provided  for 
this  very  occasion,  and  throwing  open  his  tool-chest  be- 
gan bundling  his  valuables  into  it  with  eager  haste. 
He  did  not  forget  anything,  not  even  the  rubber 
blanket,  powder-horn,  or  rusty  butcher-knife.  When 
the  last  article  had  been  crowded  into  the  valise  he 
closed  it,  and  carrying  it  to  the  window  that  overlooked 
the  garden  dropped  it  to  the  ground.  Then  he  locked 
the  door  of  the  curiosity  shop,  descended  the  stairs,  and 
picking  up  the  valise  carried  it  to  the  lower  end  of  the 
garden  and  concealed  it  under  a  quince  tree. 

This  much  was  done,  but  he  had  still  another  piece 
of  work  to  perform,  and  that  took  him  into  the  house. 
He  went  to  his  mother's  room,  and  after  considerable 
fumbling  in  one  of  the  bureau  drawers  took  out  some- 
thing wrapped  up  in  a  white  paper,  which,  after  he  had 
examined  it  to  make  sure  that  he  had  found  what  he 
wanted,  he  put  it  into  his  pocket.  Next  he  hurried  to 
his  own  room  to  secure  the  buckskin  purse  containing 
the  fifteen  dollars  he  had  with  so  much  difficulty 
scraped  together.  This  done,  he  selected  from  his 
abundant  wardrobe  a  pair  of  heavy  boots,  a  shirt  or  two. 


50  GUY  HARRIS. 

a  change  of  linen,  a  few  pairs  of  stockings,  and  a  suit 
of  his  roughest  and  most  durable  clothing,  all  of  which 
he  tied  up  in  a  handkerchief  he  had  spread  upon  the 
floor.  Once  during  this  operation  he  paused  and  looked 
with  rather  a  longing  eye  toward  the  pair  of  patent- 
leathers  and  the  natty  broadcloth  suit  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  wear  on  extra  occasions,  but,  after  a  little  re- 
flection, he  decided  to  leave  them  behind,  consoling 
himself  with  the  thought  that  in  the  country  to  which 
he  was  going  buckskin  was  oftener  seen  than  broad- 
cloth, and  that  fine  boots  and  expensive  clothing  would 
not  look  well  on  the  person  of  a  trapper. 

Having  tied  his  bundle  he  caught  it  up  and  ran  out 
of  the  house.  His  previous  examination  of  the  prem- 
ises had  satisfied  him  that  the  coast  was  clear,  so  he  did 
not  take  any  pains  to  conceal  his  movements.  He  went 
directly  to  the  place  where  he  had  concealed  his  valise 
and  S2:)ent  ten  minutes  trying  to  crowd  some  of  the 
clothing  into  it;  but  it  was  already  so  full  that  there 
was  not  room  even  for  a  pair  of  stockings,  and  Guy 
found  that  he  must  either  carry  his  bundle  through  the 
streets  wrapped  up  in  his  handkerchief  or  leave  it  be- 
hind. He  decided  on  the  former  course.  Even  trap- 
pers must  have  clothes,  and  he  feared  that  those  4ie  was 
then  wearing  might  not  hold  together  until  he  could 
capture  and  cure  a  sufficient  number  of  deer  hides  to 
make  him  a  suit  of  buckskin. 

Taking  the  valise  in  his  left  hand,  and  the  bundle  in 
his  teeth,  Guy  mounted  to  the  top  of  the  fence,  and  was 
on  the  very  point  of  swinging  himself  over,  when  hap- 
pening to  cast  his  eyes  up  the  lane,  whom  should  he  see 
approaching  but  Henry  Stewart.  He  had  come  up  just 
in  time  to  catch  him  in  the  act  of  running  away  from 
home. 

So  thought  Guy,  as  he  stood  leaning  on  the  top  of 
the  fence,  growing  pale  and  red  by  turns,  and  utterly  at 
a  loss  what  to  do.  He  was  well  aware  that  the  quick- 
witted Henry  would  know  in  a  minute  what  was  going 
on;  he  could  not  well  help  it  if  he  made  any  use  of  his 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE.  51 

eyes,  for  there  was  the  evidence  of  Guy's  guilt  in  the 
shape  of  his  valise  and  bundle  in  plain  sight.  AV' hat 
would  Henry  think  of  him  for  breaking  the  solemn 
promise  he  had  made  the  evening  before — and  more 
than  that,  what  would  he  do  9  But,  unfortunately  for 
our  hero,  Henry  not  being  as  wide-awake  as  he  usually 
was,  did  not  see  him.  I  say  unfortunately,  because  had 
Henry  received  the  least  intimation  of  what  was  going 
on,  he  would  have  saved  his  friend  many  an  hour  of 
misery  and  remorse.  He  walked  along,  whistling 
merrily,  as  though  he  felt  at  peace  Avith  himself  and  all 
the  world,  carrying  in  one  hand  his  jointed  fish-pole, 
stowed  away  in  a  neat  bag  of  drilling,  and  in  the  otlier 
a  fine  string  of  rock  bass;  and  so  completely  was  his 
mind  occupied  with  thoughts  of  the  splendid  sport  he 
had  enjoyed  on  the  pier  that  he  had  neither  eyes  nor 
ears  for  what  was  going  on  near  him. 

Guy  saw  that  he  had  a  chance  to  save  himself,  and  he 
lost  not  an  instant  in  taking  advantage  of  it.  As  quick 
as  a  flash  he  dropped  his  burdens  behind  the  fence,  and 
in  a  moment  more  would  have  been  out  of  sight  himself 
had  not  the  noise  the  heavy  valise  made  in  falling 
through  the  branches  of  a  quince  tree  in  the  garden 
aroused  Henry  from  his  reverie.  He  looked  up  Just  in 
time  to  see  Guy's  head  disappearing  behind  the  fence. 

"  Aha!"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  saw  you,  old  fellow.  What 
are  you  aboiit  there?" 

Guy,  finding  that  he  was  discovered,  straightened  up 
and  looked  over  the  top  of  the  fence  again.  "  Halloo, 
Hank,"  said  he,  with  an  attempt  to  appear  as  cordial 
and  friendly  as  usual. 

"  A¥ hat's  going  on  in  here?"  asked  Henry,  walking 
up  close  to  the  fence  and  peeping  through  one  of  the 
cracks.     "I  heard  something  drop." 

"  It  was  my  ball  club,"  replied  Guy,  who  could 
swallow  a  lie  as  easily  as  if  it  had  been  a  strawberry. 
"  I  was  about  to  toss  it  toward  you  to  attract  your  atten- 
tion, when  it  slipped  out  of  my  hand." 

"  Oh,"  said  Henry.     "  But  what's  the  matter  with 


52  GUV  HARROW. 

yon?  Your  face  is  as  white  as  a  sheet.  Are  von 
ill?" 

"No,  only  mad  becanse  father  wonldn't  let  me  go 
fishing  this  morning.  I  wish  you  would  pass  on  and 
attend  to  your  business/' added  Guy  mentally.  "lam 
in  an  awful  hurry." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  couldn't  go,  for  we  had  the  best  of 
sport,"  said  Henry.  Then  he  exhibited  his  string  of 
fish,  and  went  on  to  tell  who  were  on  the  pier,  and  what 
success  each  one  had  met  Avith — how  he  had  struck  a 
splendid  black  bass,  and  after  an  exciting  struggle  had 
almost  landed  him,  when  his  line  broke  and  the  fish 
took  himself  off;  how  Charley  Root,  one  of  their  school- 
mates, hooked  on  to  a  yellow  pike  that  he  ought  to  have 
lost,  he  handled  him  so  awkwardly,  but  which,  by  the 
united  efforts  of  all  the  men  and  boys  on  the  pier,  was 
safely  landed  at  last,  and  when  placed  on  the  scales 
pulled  down  the  beam  at  nine  pounds  and  a  quarter — 
of  all  of  which  Guy  scarcely  heard  a  dozen  words, 
although  under  any  other  circumstances  he  would  have 
listened  with  all  his  ears. 

"As  you  must  be  lonely,  I'll  come  in  and  visit  with 
you  a  while,"  added  Henry. 

"I  wish  you  could,"  answered  Guy,  "but  father  told 
me  before  he  went  away  to  bring  no  one  in  the  yard." 

"  Then  suppose  yoii  come  over  and  see  me." 

"  I  can't.  I  have  orders  not  to  go  outside  the  gate 
to-day." 

"  Have  you  finished  reading  the  'Bo}^  Trappers?'  If 
you  have,  I'll  lend  you  another  book." 

"  No,  I  am  not  yet  done  with  it.  Perhaps  I  will 
spend  an  hour  or  two  with  you  this  evening,  after  the 
folks  come  home." 

"I  wish  you  would.  You  know  we  want  to  talk 
about  something.     Good-by." 

"Farewell — a  long  farewell,"  said  Guy  to  himself  as 
his  friend  moved  away.  "You'll  never  see  me  again  or 
the  '  Boy  Trappers '  either,  for  I've  got  it  sufel}^  stowed 
away  in  my  valise.     I  need  it  more  than  you  do,  and 


A  A^ARROW ESCAPE.  53 

you've  so  many  you  won't  miss  it.  But  didn't  I  come 
near  being  caught,  though?"  he  added,  drawing  a  long 
breath  as  he  thought  of  his  very  narrow  escajie.  ''In 
half  a  second  more  I'd  have  been  over  tlie  fence  and  into 
a  scrape  that  I  could  not  possibly  have  lied  out  of.  But 
what's  the  odds?     A  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile." 

Ghiy  remained  standing  on  the  fence  for  ten  minutes 
— long  enough  to  allow  Henry  time  to  reach  home  and  go 
into  the  house — and  then  jumped  down  into  the  garden 
after  his  valise  and  bundle.  This  time  he  succeeded  in 
scaling  the  fence  without  being  seen  by  anybody,  and 
with  a  few  rapid  steps  reached  the  corner  of  the  block, 
where  he  stopped  to  take  a  last  look  at  his  home.  He 
ran  his  eye  quickly  over  its  familiar  surroundings,  and 
without  a  single  feeling  of  regret  turned  his  back  upon 
it  and  hurried  away.  A  walk  of  fifteen  minutes  brought 
him  to  the  corner  above  his  father's  store,  where  he 
found  Bob  waiting  for  him.  The  latter  had  a  well-filled 
valise  in  his  hand,  and  was  as  cool  and  careless  as  ever. 
He  peered  sharply  into  Guy's  face  as  he  came  up  and 
seemed  satisfied  with  what  he  saw  there. 

"■'You  look  better  than  5-ou  did  the  last  time  I  saw 
you,"  said  he.     ''  Have  you  got  it?" 

Guy  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

*•  Father  hasn't  left  the  store  yet,"  continued  Bob, 
''so  we'll  have  plenty  of  time  to  go  down  to  the  dock 
and  engage  passage  on  a  propeller.  The  Queen  of  the 
Lakes  sails  to-night,  and  we'll  go  on  her." 

"  All  right,"  said  Guy  with  a  show  of  eagerness  he 
was  very  far  from  feeling. 

"  We'll  have  to  leave  our  luggage  somewhere,  for 
when  Ave  get  our  guns  and  other  things  we'll  have  as 
much  as  we  can  carry,  and  we  might  as  well  leave  it  on 
board  the  steamer  as  anywhere  else.  We  mus'n't  be  seen 
together  with  these  valises  in  our  hands,  or  somebody 
Avill  suspect  something,  so  you  had  better  go  back  and 
go  down  Elm  Street  and  I'll  go  down  Ninth.  We'll 
meet  at  the  foot  of  Portage  Street,  where  the  Queen  of 
the  Lakes  lies." 


54  GUY  HARRIS. 

The  two  boys  separated  and  pursued  their  different 
routes  toward  the  dock.  Guy  reached  it  ten  minutes  in 
advance  of  his  companion,  and  the  first  vessel  he  saw 
was  the  propeller  of  which  he  was  in  search.  Her  name 
was  painted  in  large  letters  on  her  bow,  and  over  her 
rail  was  suspended  a  card  bearing  the  words,  '"'This 
steamer  for  Chicago  to-night."  Her  crew  were  engaged 
in  rolling  barrels  and  hogsheads  up  the  gang-planks, 
and  Guy,  watching  his  opportunity,  dodged  in  and 
ascended  the  stairs  that  led  to  the  cabin. 

"Now,  then,"  exclaimed  a  flashily-dressed  young 
man,  who  met  him  at  the  top  and  looked  rather  suspic- 
iously at  the  bundles  Guy  deposited  on  the  floor  of  the 
cabin,  "  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"  Are  you  the  steward?"  asked  the  boy. 

"  I  have  the  honor." 

"  I  want  to  go  to  Chicago  on  this  boat." 

"  Who  are  you,  where  do  you  live,  and  what  is  your 
name?"  demanded  the  steward  with  another  sidelong 
glance  at  Guy's  luggage. 

The  boy  noticed  the  look,  and  took  his  cue  from  it. 

''My  name  is  John  Thomas,"  said  he,  "and  I  used 
to  live  in  Syracuse,  but  I  am  going  West  now  to  find  my 
uncle." 

"  Where  does  your  father  live,  and  what  business 
does  he  follow?" 

"  I  haven't  got  any  father  or  mother  either.  I  am 
alone  in  the  world." 

The  man's  face  softened  instantly.  The  next  words 
he  uttered  were  spoken  in  a  much  'kinder  tone. 

"■'The  fare  will  be  eight  dollars,"  said  he. 

"  I  had  thought  of  taking  steerage  passage,"  returned 
Guy.  "  Money  is  not  as  plenty  with  me  as  it  is  with 
some  folks. ^' 

"  Then  you  can  go  for  five  dollars.     Step  this  way." 

Guy  picked  up  his  valise  and  bundle  and  followed  the 
steward,  who  led  the  way  along  the  deck  toward  the  for- 
ward 2)art  of  the  vessel,  finally  turning  into  an  apart- 
ment which  looked  very  ludike  the   neatly   furnished 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE.  55 

cabin  they  liad  just  left.  The  floor  was  destitute  of  a 
carpet,  and  the  rough  bunks  that  were  fitted  up  against 
the  bulk-heads  looked  anything  but  inviting.  Chests, 
bundles,  and  bed-clothes  were  scattered  about,  and  in 
one  corner  were  congregated  a  dozen  or  more  persons  of 
both  sexes,  who  were  eating  bread  and  bologna  and  talk- 
ing loudly. 

Guy  looked  askance  at  them,  and  more  than  half  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  wouldn't  take  passage  in  the  steer- 
age. He  didn't  like  the  idea  of  being  obliged  to  keep 
such  company  for  a  journey  of  seven  hundred  miles. 

''You  may  take  this  bunk,"  said  the  steward,  point- 
ing out  the  one  he  wished  Guy  to  occupy, 

'•'  Where  are  the  bed-clothes?"  asked  the  boy. 

"We  don't  furnish  them  to  steerage  passengers. 
Every  man  finds  his  own." 

"But  I  haven't  got  any,"  said  Guy,  "and  I  can't 
sleep  on  those  hard  boards.  I  think  I  had  better  wait 
a  while.  I  have  a  friend,  Ned  Wheeler,  who  is  going 
with  me,  and  perhaps  he  will  decide  to  take  a  cabin 
passage." 

The  steward,  not  deeming  any  reply  necessary, 
turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  out,  leaving  Guy  alone 
with  the  emigrants.  He  did  not  know  that  it  would  be 
quite  safe  to  leave  his  luggage  there  with  no  one  to 
watch  it,  but  after  a  little  hesitation  he  decided  to  run 
the  risk;  and,  pitching  his  valise  and  bundle  into  the 
bunk  the  steward  had  pointed  out  to  him,  he  hurried 
below  to  watch  for  his  expected  companion.  He  wanted 
to  post  him.  In  a  few  minutes  Bob  made  his  appear- 
ance. 

"Look  here,"  said  Guy,  as  he  ran  to  meet  him, 
"  your  name  isn't  Bob  Walker  any  longer — at  least 
while  we  remain  on  board  this  propeller." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Bob.  "  Let  me  see;  I'll  call 
myself " 

"  I  have  told  the  steward  that  your  name  is  Ned 
Wheeler,  and  that  my  name  is  John  Thomas." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  might  have  found  better 
ones  if  you  had  tried." 


56  GUY  HARRIS. 

"No  matter;  they  will  answer  onr  purpose  as  well  as 
any  others.  You  see  our  names  will  have  to  go  into  the 
passenger  list,  and  if  our  fathers  should  suspect  that  we 
have  gone  up  the  lakes,  they  would  have  no  diftlculty  in 
tracing  us  as  far  as  Chicago,  if  we  gave  our  true  names." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Bob  again.  "  Have  you  jucked 
out  a  berth  yet?" 

"No;  but  I  have  seen  the  steerage,,  and  it  is  a  horri- 
ble-looking place.     Come  on;  I'll  show  it  to  you." 

Bob  was  not  very  favorably  impressed  with  the 
appearance  of  things  in  the  steerage.  He  looked  at  the 
dingy  deck,  the  empty  bunks,  the  ragged,  dirty  group 
in  the  corner,  and  stepped  back  and  shook  his  head. 

"  I  can't  go  this,  Guy,"  said  he.  "I  have  been  used 
to  better  things.  Cet  your  bundles,  and  we'll  take 
cabin  passage.  We  shall  have  money  enough  to  2^ay 
for  it." 

The  steward  being  hunted  up,  showed  the  boys  to  a 
state-room  in  the  cabin,  in  which  they  deposited  their 
luggage,  after  which  they  hurried  ashore  to  carry  out 
their  plans. 

Now  came  the  hardest  part  of  the  Avork,  and  Guy 
would  have  been  glad  to  shirk  it,  could  it  have  been 
accomplished  without  his  assistance. 

It  was  dangerous  as  well  as  difficult,  and  there  was 
dishonor  connected  with  it.  More  than  that — and  this 
was  what  troubled  Guy  the  most — there  was  a  possibility 
that  the  crime  they  intended  to  commit,  even  if  they 
were  successful  in  it,  would  be  discovered  before  they 
could  leave  the  city,  and  then  what  would  become  of 
them  ? 

While  Guy  was  thinking  about  it,  they  arrived  within 
sight  of  his  father's  dry-goods  store. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Bob,  giving  him  an  encouraging 
slap  on  the  back,  "  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  and  remember 
that  everything  depends  upon  you.  Do  your  part 
faithfully,  and  I'll  do  mine." 

With  a  beating  heart  Guy  walked  into  the  store,  and, 
stopping  before  the  counter,  drew  a  small  package  from 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE.  57 

his  pocket.  He  tried  to  look  unconcerned,  but  he 
trembled  violently,  and  his  face  was  white  with  excite- 
ment and  apprehension. 

The  clerk  who  stepped  ^x^  to  attend  to  his  wants 
stared  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  What's  the  matter,  GrU}-?''  he  inquired. 

"  Nothing — nothing  whatever,  Mr.  Fellows.  What 
made  you  ask?'' 

"'  Why,  you  look  as  though  you  had  been  sick  for  a 
week.     And  see  how  your  hand  sliakes." 

"  Well,  I  doir't  feel  remarkably  lively  for  some  cause 
or  other,  that's  a  fact,"  returned  Guy.  "  Mother  sent 
me  down  here  to  see  if  you  could  match  this  piece  of 
silk,"  he  continued,  unfolding  the  package  and  display- 
ing its  contents. 

"No,  I  cannot,"  answered  the  clerk,  and  Guy  knew 
very  well  what  he  was  going  to  say  before  the  words  left 
his  lips.  "  I  told  Mrs.  Harris  the  last  time  she  was  in 
that  our  new  stock  would  not  arrive  before  Monday." 

"  Mother  is  in  a  great  hurry  and  can't  wait  a  day 
longer.     Can't  you  send  out  to  some  other  store?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  clerk,  taking  a  pair  of  scissors 
from  his  pocket  and  cutting  the  silk  in  twain.  "  Here, 
Thompson,  take  this  up  to  Kenton's  and  see  if  they  can 
match  it;  and,  Jones,  you  take  this  piece  and  go  over 
to  Sherman's." 

When  Guy  had  seen  tlie  two  clerks  dej^art  on  their 
errand  he  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  A  2)art  of  his 
work  was  accomplished,  and  it  had  been,  too,  just  as  he 
and  Bob  had  planned  it.  Tbe  next  thing  Avas  to  keep 
Mr.  Fellows  employed  in  the  front  ])art  of  the  store  for 
a  few  minutes  longer. 

"  AVon't  you  be  kind  enough  to  look  over  your  stock 
again  ?"  said  Guy.  ' '  Mother  is  positive  there  is  a  rem- 
nant of  that  silk  somewhere  in  the  store." 

'^ril  do  it,  of  course,  to  please  her,"  replied  the 
clerk,  "but  I  know  I  shaVt  find  it.  Ah!  Here's  Mr. 
Walker,     Perhaps  he  knows  something  about  it." 

At  the  mention  of  that  name  Guy  started  as  if  he  had 


58  GUY  HARRIS. 

been  shot.  Bob's  father  was  the  very  man  of  all  others 
he  did  not  want  to  see  just  then,  for  he  belonged  in 
the  back  of  the  store,  and  Bob  was  there.  Guy  had  a 
presentiment  that  something  disagreeable  was  about  to 
happen. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ADEIFT     lis"     THE     WORLD. 

HY,    GUY,    what's   the   matter   with    you?" 
asked  Mr.  Walker,  giving  the  boy's  hand  a 
cordial  grip  and  shake.     "Been  sick?'" 
"No,  sir,"  stammered  Guy. 

"'  Then  you're  going  to  be.  I  never  saw  you  look  so 
pale  before.  What  was  it  you  said  to  me?"  added  Mr. 
Walker,  addressing  himself  to  the  clerk. 

"Mrs.  Harris  has  sent  down  that  piece  of  silk  again/' 
answered  Mr.  Fellows.     "  Can  we  match  it?" 

"  No;  and  there's  not  a  piece  like  it  in  the  city,"  said 
Mr.  Walker.  "  But  we'll  have  some  on  Monday  sure, 
for  I  ordered " 

The  gentleman  suddenly  paused,  and  looking  sharply 
toward  the  back  part  of  the  store,  bent  forward  in  a 
listening  attitude. 

Guy  listened  also,  and  was  almost  ready  to  drop  with 
terror  when  he  distinctly  heard  a  faint,  grating  noise 
like  that  which  would  be  made  by  turning  a  key  care- 
fully in  a  lock.  It  seemed  to  come  from  behind  the 
high  desk  which  fenced  off  the  office  from  the  main  part 
of  the  store. 

Mr.  Walker  stood  for  an  instant  as  if  profoundly 
astonished,  and,  with  an  inquiring  glance  at  the  clerk, 
started  on  tiptoe  toward  the  office.  Mr.  Fellows  was 
close  at  his  heels,  and  Guy,  impelled  by  a  curiosity  that 
he  could  not  have  resisted  if  he  had  tried,  brought  up 
the  rear.  He  saw  Mr.  Walker  disappear  behind  the 
high  desk,  and  jumping  upon  a  chair  and  looking  over 
it,  he  had  a  full  view  of  the  scene  that  transpired  on  the 
other  side. 

Bob  was  kneeling  in  front  of  an  open  safe,  and  was  in 
the  very  act  of  crowding  a  large  package  of  money  into 


60  ■  GUY  HARRIS, 

his  pocket.  So  intent  was  he  upon  Avhat  he  was  doing, 
that  he  did  not  hear  his  father's  stealthy  approach. 

Mr.  Walker  was  utterly  confounded.  Hardly  able  to 
believe  the  evidence  of  his  eyes,  he  stood  for  a  moment 
as  if  deprived  of  all  power  of  action;  then  springing  for- 
ward with  a  quick  bound,  he  Avrenched  the  package  from 
his  son^s  grasp,  and  sunk  helpless  and  almost  breathless 
into  the  nearest  chair. 

"  Oh.  KobertI  Robert  I"  he  exclaimed,  while  the  tears 
he  could  not  repress  coursed  down  his  cheeks.  "  Is  this 
the  way  you  repay  my  kindness  and  indulgence?  How 
could  you  do  it!     How  could  you  do  it  I" 

A  death-like  silence  followed.  Mr.  Walker  leaned  his 
head  upon  his  hands  and  shook  like  a  man  with  the 
ague.  Bob,  having  recovered  his  perpendicular — for  his 
father,  in  his  excitement,  had  thrown  him  headlong  into 
the  nearest  corner — stood  sullen  and  motionless.  The 
clerk  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
in  silent  amazement;  and  Guy,  stunned  and  bewildered, 
staggered  off  the  chair,  and  walking  like  one  in  a  dream, 
moved  slowly  out  of  the  store  and  down  the  street.  He 
did  not  know  where  he  was  going,  and  what  was  more 
he  did  not  care.  When,  he  came  to  himself  he  was 
standing  in  the  upper  story  of  an  elevator,  gazing  in  a 
stupid,  benumbed  sort  of  way  at  the  monster  wlieel  as  it 
slowly  revolved,  bringing  up  an  endless  chain  of  loaded 
buckets  from  some  dark  abyss  beneath  him.  He  was 
able  now  to  think  over  the  incident  that  had  just  hap- 
pened at  the  store,  and  as  he  was  Jiot  yet  fully  hardened, 
he  felt  his  situation  most  keenly. ' 

"It  is  all  over  with  me  now,"  said  he,  with  a  calmness 
that  surprised  himself,  "^  for  of  course  the  part  I  have 
played  in  this  miserable  business  will  be  known  when  the 
folks  come  home,  even  if  it  isn't  known  already.  Mother 
will  say  that  she  didn't  send  me  down  there  to  match 
that  piece  of  silk,  and  in  that  way  my  guilt  will  be 
exposed.  Besides,  Bob  is  cornered,  and  I  know  him  too 
well  to  indulge  in  the  hope  that  he  will  take  all  the 
blame  upon  himself  and  shield  me,     I  can't  stay  here. 


ADRIFT  IN  THE   WOULD.  61 

for  I  am  forever  disgraced.  I  mud  go,  and  with  only 
fifteen  dollars  in  my  pocket,  too.  ]S"ow  that  I  think  of 
it,  I  am  glad  Bob  didn't  succeed  in  stealing  that 
package.  I  shall  at  least  have  the  satisfaction  of  know- 
ing that  what  little  money  I  have,  I  have  earned  hon- 
estly." 

How  Guy  managed  to  exist  during  that  long  after- 
noon was  a  myst&ry  to  himself.  He  wanted  to  keep  out 
of  sight  of  everybody,  and  the  loft  of  the  elevator  was 
as  good  a  place  of  concealment  as  he  could  have  found. 
No  one  intruded  upon  him  during  the  five  hours  he 
spent  there.  He  passed  a  portion  of  his  time  in  walking 
about  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  thinking  over  his 
situation  and  wondering  what  should  be  his  first  move 
now  that  he  was  fairly  adrift  in  the  world,  and  the  re- 
mainder in  standing  at  the  front  window  watching  the 
crew  of  the  Queen  of  the  Lakes,  who  were  still  busily 
engaged  in  loading  their  vessel. 

During  the  afternoon  several  passengers  arrived,  some 
on  foot  and  some  in  carriages,  and  Guy  always  held  his 
breath  in  suspense  while  he  sharply  scrutinized  the  face 
of  every  one  who  ascended  the  gang-plank,  and  was  as 
often  greatly  relieved  to  find  that  there  were  none  among 
them  he  had  ever  seen  before. 

At  length,  to  his  great  joy,  he  discovered  a  thin  cloud 
of  smoke,  which  grew  thicker  and  blacker  every  mo- 
ment, ascending  from  the  propeller's  chimney. 

The  men  who  were  loading  the  vessel  became  quicker 
in  their  movements  and  rolled  the  freight  along  at  a 
more  rapid  rate,  encouraged  by  the  voices  and  gestures 
of  the  mates. 

Finally  one  of  the  planks  was  drawn  in  and  the  after 
gangway  closed,  and  just  as  it  begun  to  grow  dark  two 
of  the  four  lines  that  held  the  steamer  to  the  wharf  were 
cast  off  and  the  whistle  was  blown. 

Guy  now  had  another  disagreeable  piece  of  business  to 
perform,  and  that  was  to  transfer  himself  from  the  loft 
of  the  elevator  to  the  deck  of  the  propeller. 

Drawing-  in  a  long  breath  and  calling  all  his  courage 


63  GUY  HARRIS. 

to  his  aid  he  ran  swiftly  clown  the  stairs,  paused  a  mo- 
ment at  the  door  and  then  bounded  across  the  wharf  and 
up  the  gang-plank.  He  went  directly  to  the  upper 
deck,  and  seating  himself  upon  the  rail  over  the  gang- 
way, looked  closely  at  every  one  who  came  on  hoard  the 
propeller,  intending,  if  he  saw  Mr.  AValker  or  any  of  his 
father's  clerks  apiDroaching,  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat.  But 
all  Mr.  Harris'  employes  were  doing  just  what  Guy 
ought  to  have  been  doing — attending  to  their  business. 
Had  they  known  where  he  was  and  what  he  was  about  to 
do,  it  is  probable  that  some  of  them  would  have  inter- 
ested themselves  in  the  matter;  but  as  they  did  not,  Guy 
was  left  to  his  own  devices. 

At  last,  to  the  boy's  intense  relief,  everything  was 
made  ready  for  the  start.  The  whistle  shrieked  again, 
the  captain  took  his  stand  upon  the  wheel-house,  the 
lines  were  handed  aboard,  and  the  Queen  of  the  Lakes 
moved  slowly  down  the  harbor. 

As  soon  as  clear  water  was  seen  between  the  boat  and 
the  wharf  Guy  told  himself  that  he  was  safe  from  pur- 
suit, and  settling  into  a  comfortable  position  on  the  rail, 
he  prepared  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  city  of  Norwall. 

As  it  was  already  dark  he  could  not  see  much  of  it 
excejit  the  lights.  These  faded  out  of  his  sight  one  by 
one,  and  finally  when  the  steamer,  after  passing  the 
breakwater  and  the  liglit-house  swung  around  and 
headed  up  the  lake,  they  were  all  shut  out  from  his  view. 

Then  Guy  begun  to  feel  lonely  and  chilly,  too,  for  a 
keen,  cutting  wind  was  blowing  and  he  had  no  overcoat. 
As  he  arose  to  his  feet,  intending  to  go  into  the  cabin 
where  it  was  warmer,  some  one  suddenly  laid  a  hand 
upon  his  shoulder. 

Guy  started  violently,  and  so  surprised  and  frightened 
was  he  that  he  lost  his  balance,  and  would  certainh'have 
fallen  overboard  had  not  the  hand  Ijeen  quickly  shifted 
from  his  shoulder  to  his  arm,  griping  it  with  sufhcient 
force  and  strength  to  haul  him  on  board  and  enable  him 
to  recover  his  equilibrium.  As  soon  as  he  was  fairly  on 
his  feet  he  looked  up  and  was  astonished  beyond  meas- 


ADRIFT  IN  THE   WORLD.  63 

lire  to  find  himself  confronted  by  Bob  Wall^er,  wlio  was 
comfortably  wrapped  np  in  an  overcoat,  held  a  lighted 
cigar  in  his  teeth,  and  wore  his  hat  on  one  side  in  the 
same  old  rowdy  style.  He  did  not  look  much  like  a  boy 
who  had  been  caught  in  the  act  of  robbing  a  safe. 

"  Wh}',  Guy,"  said  he  with  a  laugh,  "  you  are  as 
nervous  as  an  old  woman.  You  must  get  over  that  be- 
fore you  reach  the  mountains,  or  Kit  Carson  and  Captain 
Bridges  will  never  have  a  rival  in  you.  Did  you  think  I 
was  a  policeman?" 

"Bob,"  exclaimed  Guy  gleefully,  "you  don't  know 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  I  little  expected  to  find  you 
here." 

"What  did  you  think  I  would  do?"  demanded  Bob. 
"You  didn't  imagine  that  I  would  stay  in  Nor  wall  after 
being  caught  in  such  a  scrape,  did  3'ou?  I  am  not  quite 
so  green.  I  tell  you,  Guy,  if  father  had  stayed  away  Just 
live  minutes  longer  we'd  have  been  rich.  That  package 
I  held  in  my  hand  had  five  hundred  dollars  in  it." 

"■  Great  Scott!"  exclaimed  Guy,  catching  his  breath. 

"It's  a  fact.  The  amount  was  marked  on  the  wrap- 
per." 

"  What  did  your  father  say  to  you?" 

"  He  told  me  to  go  home,  and  I  did;  but  I  didn't  stay 
there  long.  I  got  my  overcoat  and  came  back  to  the 
boat.  I've  been  on  board  ever  since  two  o'clock  waiting 
for  you." 

"And  I  was  hiding  in  the  elevator  all  the  while. 
But,  Bob,  do  you  know  I  am  glad  that  you  didn't  get 
out  of  the  store  with  that  money?  It  is  bad  enough  to 
run  away  from  home;  it  would  be  worse  if  we  were 
thieves!" 

"Bah!"  exclaimed  Bob  contemptuously,  "you're  los- 
ing courage  already,  and  you'd  better  not,  for  you 
will  have  need  of  all  you  can  muster  before  we  get 
through  with  this  business.  We've  got  to  earn  money 
noAV  to  buy  an  outfit,  and  how  are  we  going  to  do  it? 
But  let's  go  into  the  cabin.     It's  cold  out  here." 

Bob  strutted  off  with  as  much  dignity  as  if  he  had 


64  GUY  HARRIS. 

been  the  owner  of  tlie  vessel,  and  Guy  slowly  followed. 
The  cabin  was  a  blaze  of  light,  and  most  of  the  passen- 
gers had  congregated  there  to  escape  from  the  cold  wind 
that  was  blowing.  They  sat  around  in  little  groups, 
some  reading,  others  conversing  with  their  fi'iends,  and 
everybody  seemed  to  be  happy  except  Guy.  He  was 
indeed  losing  courage;  and  if  he  could  have  blotted  out 
the  events  of  that  afternoon,  he  would  have  given  every- 
thing he  ever  hoped  to  possess  to  have  been  safe  under 
his  father's  roof  again.  He  had  not  yet  got  fairly  out 
into  the  "  wide,  wide  world,"  of  which  he  had  so  often 
dreamed,  had  encountered  none  of  its  trials  and  vicissi- 
tudes, and  yet  he  knew  as  well  as  though  he  had  already 
tried  it,  that  the  struggle  he  was  about  to  commence 
would  prove  too  mucli  for  him.  The  longer  he  thought 
about  it  the  more  nervous  and  uneasy  he  became,  until 
at  last  he  could  not  sit  still,  or  bear  to  remain  in  the 
cabin.  The  air  seemed  hot  and  almost  stifling,  and 
the  merriment  of  the  passengers  grated  harshly  on  his 
ears.  Arising  to  his  feet  he  made  his  way  to  the  deck, 
and  for  four  long  hours  paced  back  and  forth,  all  un- 
mindful of  the  wind  and  the  big  drops  of  rain  that  now 
and  then  dashed  into  his  face. 

At  last,  overcome  with  fatigue  and  excitement,  he 
sought  his  state-room.  Bob  had  already  turned  in,  and 
was  snugly  tucked  away  in  the  lower  bunk.  He  ap- 
peared to  be  asleep,  for  his  eyes  were  closed  and  he 
breathed  heavily. 

Guy  hastily  divested  himself  of  his  damp  garments, 
and  hanging  them  upon  tlie  hooks  that  were  screwed 
into  the  bulk-head,  climbed  into  his  bunk  and  was  soon 
in  a  deep  slumber.  He  was  aroused  once  during  the 
night  by  some  one  moving  about  the  room;  but  it  was 
only  Bob,  who,  in  reply  to  an  inquiry  from  Guy,  said 
that  he  had  been  on  deck  to  see  how  thiiigs  were  going, 
and  that  it  was  raining  buckets  and  blowing  great  guns. 
Guy  quickly  went  oif  into  the  land  of  dreams  again, 
lulled  by  the  rocking  of  the  vessel,  but  about  daylight 
was  awakened  by  the  pangs  of  seasickness. 


ADRIFT  IN  THE:   WORLD.  65 

All  that  forenoon  he  suffered  greatly,  and  was  a  most 
forlorn-looking  object  indeed.  Bob,  Avho  was  as  lively 
as  a  cricket,  faithfully  attended  to  all  his  wants,  and 
shortly  after  dinner  brought  him  a  lemon  and  a  piece  of 
toast.  When  he  had  taken  a  little  of  the  juice  of  the 
former,  and  a  few  mouthfuls  of  the  latter,  he  felt  better, 
and  was  able,  with  Bob's  help,  to  put  on  his  clothes  and 
go  on  deck.  While  the  two  boys  were  conversing  and 
Avatching  the  white-caps  as  they  rolled  toward  them, 
the  steward  approached,  and  addressing  himself  to  Guy, 
said : 

"  Please  walk  up  to  the  clerk's  office." 

"  To  pay  your  fare,  you  know,"  added  Bob,  seeing 
that  Guy  did  not  quite  understand.  "I  settled  mine 
this  morning." 

/'  Oh,  yes.  I  have  been  so  sick  that  I  forgot  all  about 
that.  Lend  me  your  arm,  please.  I  haven't  yet  got  my 
sea  legs  on." 

Bob  complied,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  two  boys  were 
standing  before  the  clerk,  who  drew  the  book  containing 
the  passenger  list  toward  him,  and  asked,  as  he  held  his 
pen  poised  in  the  air: 

"What  name?" 

"Guy — John  Thomas,"  replied  the  seasick  runaway, 
who  would  have  given  his  true  name  had  not  Bob 
pinched  his  arm  just  in  time  to  prevent  it. 

Guy  John  Thomas,"  repeated  the  clerk,  as  he  entered 
the  name  in  his  book.     "  Where  to?" 

"Chicago." 

"Eight  dollars." 

Guy  thrust  his  hand  into  the  pocket  of  his  trousers, 
and  a  look  of  blank  anuizement  suddenly  overspread  his 
pale  face.  The  pocket  was  empty.  He  felt  in  the 
other,  and  finally  searched  everywhere  about  his  clothes, 
but  nothing  in  the  shape  of  a  purse  could  be  found. 

"My  gracious!"  gasped  Guy. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  asked  his  companion. 

"Matter!"  Guy  almost  shoutedj  "matter  enough. 
Tve  lost  my  pocket-book." 


66  GUV  HARklS. 

"  No!"  exclaimed  Bob,  looking  surprised. 

"  But  I  say  yes!"  shrieked  Guy;  "and  with  it  I  have 
lost  every  cent  I  had  in  the  world.  Oh!  what  shall  I 
do?" 

"It  can't  be  possible/''  said  Bob,  feeling  of  his 
friend's  pockets.     "  Look  again." 

"  Oh,  haven't  I  looked  everywhere  already?"  de- 
manded Guy,  the  tears  starting  to  his  eyes  as  he  begun 
another  thorough  examination  of  his  clothing.  "  It's 
lost,  I  tell  you." 

"  Perhaps  you  left  it  in  your  valise.  Let's  go  and 
look.'- 

"No,  I  didn't.  I  put  it  in  my  pocket  yesterday,  and 
I  didn't  once  take  it  out.     Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!" 

The  clerk  laid  down  his  pen,  leaned  his  elbows  on 
the  desk  before  him,  and  waited  to  see  what  Guy  was 
going  to  do  about  it,  and  the  latter,  having  satistied 
himself  that  the  money  was  not  to  be  found  about  his 
person,  allowed  Bob  to  lead  him  oif  to  his  state-room. 
With  frantic  haste  he  overhauled  the  bundle  and  tum- 
bled the  contents  of  his  valise  upon  the  floor,  but  no 
purse  rewarded  his  search.  Then  he  looked  under  his 
pillow,  and  into  every  corner  in  the  room,  but  with  no 
better  success. 

"  It's  no  use;  it's  gone,"  screamed  Guy,  throwing 
himself  upon  Bob's  bunk  and  giving  away  to  a  torrent 
of  tears,  "  and  here  I  am  without  a  copper  in  my 
pocket,  and  no  friend  to  help  me!  I  can't  go  back 
home,  and  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I  wish  I  Avas 
dead.     Have  you  got  any  money, 'Bob?" 

"  Not  a  dollar;  not  even  half  a  dollar.  I  had  just 
enough  to  pay  my  fare,  and  expected  to  look  to  you  for 
a  few  dimes.  We're  in  a  lix,  that's  certain.  When  we 
reach  Chicago  we  shall  be  strapped  as  flat  as  imncakes, 
and  in  a  strange  city,  too.  I'll  go  and  speak  to  the 
skip|)er.     Perhaps  he  can  do  something  for  you." 

Bob  easily  found  the  captain,  who  listened  patiently 
while  he  stated  his  friend's  case,  and  accompanied  him 
to  the  presence  of  Guy,  to  whom  he  propounded  a  few 
inquiries;  Had  he  any  idea  where  he  lost  his  money? 


ADRIFT  IN  THE   WORLD.  67 

Might  lie  not  have  dropped  it  or  had  his  pocket  picked 
before  he  came  on  board  the  propeller.  Had  he  seen 
any  stranger  in  his  room  the  night  before?  and  had  he 
any  relatives  or  friends  in  Chicago?  To  all  these  ques- 
tions Guy  replied  in  the  negative.  The  captain  looked 
thoughtfully  at  the  floor  for  a  moment,  said  it  was  a 
hard  case,  but  he  didn't  see  that  he  could  do  anything, 
and  turning  on  his  heel  he  left  the  room,  while  Bob 
seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk,  and  looked  at 
his  friend  with  a  very  sympathizing  expression  on  his 
countenance. 

A  dozen  times  that  afternoon  Guy  searched  all  his 
pockets,  examined  the  contents  of  his  valise  and  bun- 
dle, and  peeped  into  every  part  of  the  state-room,  hop- 
ing that  in  his  hurry  and  excitement  he  had  overlooked 
the  purse,  and  that  it  would  yet  come  to  light;  but  he 
as  often  abandoned  the  search  in  utter  despair,  and  threw 
himself  upon  the  bunk  to  indulge  in  a  fresh  burst  of 
tears.  Bob  lent  willing  assistance,  and  tried  to  utter 
words  of  consolation,  but  these  did  not  help  Guy.  He 
did  not  want  sympathy,  but  money. 

About  four  o'clock  the  door  opened,  admitting  the 
steward. 

^^  Have  you  found  it  yet?"  he  asked. 

"No/'  sobbed  Guy,   ''and  I  never  shall." 

"Did  you  lose  all  you  had?" 

"Every  red  cent." 

"  Then,  of  course,  you  can't  pay  your  fare  to  Chicago. 
I  have  been  talking  to  the  captain  about  you,  and  he 
says  you  must  go  ashore  the  first  landing  we  make, 
which  will  be  at  Saginaw.  In  the  meantime  you  will 
have  to  give  up  this  room  and  go  into  the  steerage. 
You  will  find  an  empty  bunk  there." 

"  Oh,  I  haven't  got  any  bed-clothes,  and  how  am  I 
to  sleep  on  those  hard  boards?"  exclaimed  Guy. 

"  I  don't  know  1  am  sure.  But  you  will  have  it  to  do, 
if  you  sleep  at  all.  We  have  three  or  four  passengers 
who  slept  on  chairs  in  the  cabin  last  night,  and  I  must 
put  one  of  them  in  here." 

Guy  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  cried  lustily. 


68  GUV  HARRIS. 

"Come,  come!  Shoulder  your  dunnage  and  clear  out! 
I  am  in  a  hurry/'  said  the  steward  sharply. 

Guy  saw  that  he  had  no  alternative.  Slowly  arising 
from  his  bunk  he  picked  up  his  valise,  while  Bob  took 
his  bundle,  and  together  they  went  their  way  to  the 
steerage.  It  looked  ten-fold  more  dingy  and  forbidding 
now  than  it  did  when  Guy  first  saw  it.  He  did  not 
think  he  could  live  there,  and  told  Bob  so. 

"Nonsense!"  said  his  companion.  '•  You  will  live  in 
worse  places  than  this  before  you  see  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ains. But  I'd  be  a  man  if  I  were  you,  Guy.  Choke 
down  your  tears." 

"Oh,  yes;  it's  all  well  enough  for  you  to  talk,  for 
you've  nothing  to  trouble  you.  Your  passage  is  paid 
and  you've  a  nice  room  to  sleep  in.  But  you  won't  go 
to  Chicago,  will  you?" 

"Why  not?" 

"  And  leave  me  alone?" 

"I  don't  see  that  I  can  help  it.  I  have  paid  my  pas- 
sage, and  I  might  as  well  go  on." 

"  But,  Bob,  what  shall  I  do  without  you?" 

"A  fellow  can't  live  in  this  world  without  money, 
Guy,  and  if  I  go  ashore  in  the  woods  how  am  I  going  to 
earn  any?" 

"How  am  /  going  to  earn  any?"  retorted  Guy  with 
more  pluck  and  independence  than  he  had  yet  exhib- 
ited. "  But  I  see  what  you  are  at  very  plainly.  Y'ou 
want  to  go  back  on  me." 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Yes,  you  do;  and  I  don't  care 'either,  if  you  want 
to  desert  me  Avhile  I  am  in  trouble,  do  it.  I  don't  ask 
any  odds  of  you.  All  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  keep  away 
from  me  from  this  time  forward.  Don't  speak  to  me, 
or  even  look  at  me.  But  bear  one  thing  in  mind — we 
must  both  struggle  for  an  existence  now,  and  I'll  come 
to  the  top  of  the  heap  first." 

As  Guy  said  this  he  snatched  the  bundle  from  Bob's 
hand,  pitched  it,  Avith  the  valise,  into  one  of  the  empty 
bunks,  and  turning  square  about  left  the  steerage. 


CHAPTER  VITI. 

GUY   PIN^DS   A   FRIEND. 

OOR  GUY!  his  misfortunes  were  following 
close  upon  the  heels  of  one  another.  He  had 
looked  upon  the  loss  of  his  money  as  the 
greatest  of  calamities,  but  now  a  worse  had 
befallen  him.  He  was  at  swords'  points  with  Bob 
Walker,  and  he  did  not  see  how  he  could  get  on  Avithout 
him.  Bob  was  so  self-reliant,  and  could  so  easily  adapt 
himself  to  circumstances  that  Guy  had  already  learned 
to  lean  upon  him.  Fully  sensible  of  his  own  lack  of 
courage  and  independence,  he  wanted  somebody  to  ad- 
vise and  sympathize  with  him.  Longing  to  get  away 
by  himself  where  he  could  brood  over  his  sorrows  to  his 
heart's  content,  he  hurried  out  of  the  steerage,  and  was 
making  his  way  aft,  when  he  ran  plump  into  the  arms 
of  some  one.     It  was  the  steward. 

"Ah!  this  will  never  do,"  said  the  officer.  "Steer- 
age passengers  are  not  alloAved  abaft  the  waist." 

"Eh?"  exclaimed  Guy. 

"Come  here,"  said  the  steward,  "and  I  will  explain 
what  I  mean.  Do  you  see  this  gangway  that  runs 
athwartshi2)s?  Well,  you  mustn't  come  any  nearer  the 
stern  than  that.     Go  f  or'ard  now. " 

Guy  started  in  obeiience  to  his  command,  and  just 
then  the  supper-bell  rung.  The  first  to  answer  the 
summons  was  Bob  Walker,  who  went  into  the  wash- 
room and  tucked  up  his  sleeves  prei^aratory  to  per- 
forming his  ablutions.  Guy  went  in  also,  and  followed 
his  movements. 

Having  recovered  from  his  seasickness  by  this  time, 
he  was^  of  course,  very  hungry,  and  the  savory  odors 


70  GUY  HARRIS. 

that  came  from  tlie  cabin  every  time  the  door  was 
opened  served  to  quiclien  his  appetite.  He  hung  up 
his  cap,  and  was  about  to  turn  on  the  water,  when  the 
ubiquitous  steward  once  more  appeared. 

"  JSTow,  pard,  this  won't  do,  either,"  said  he,  taking 
hold  of  the  boy's  arm  and  waving  his  hand  toward  tlie 
door. 

"  Why  not?"  demanded  Guy,  trying  to  throw  off  the 
steward's  grasp.  "1  want  to  wasli  before  supper, 
don't  I?" 

''If  you  do  you  Avill  fmd  plenty  of  buckets  on  the 
main  deck." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  washing  in  buckets,  and  I 
sha'n't  do  it,"  replied  Guy,  greatly  astonished. 

"Oh,  that's  the  Avay  the  wind  sets,  is  it?"  exclaimed 
the  steward,  changing  his  tone  and  manner  in  an  instant. 
''  You're  standing  on  your  dignity,  are  you,  you  dead 
beat?  IS'ow  mark  you,"  he  added,  shaking  his  finger  in 
the  boy's  face,  "if  I  catch  you  as  fur  aft  as  this  gang- 
way again  I'll  walk  you  for'ard  by  the  nape  of  the  neck. 
Now  get  out  o'  this  I     Out  you  go,  with  a  jump." 

Guy  did  not  go  with  a  jump  exactly,  but  he  went 
with  a  very  strong  push,  for  the  stew^ard,  exerting  all 
his  strength,  flung  him  headlong  through  the  door,  and 
kicked  his  cap  after  him.  Bob  stood  by,  wiping  his 
hands,  and,  as  Guy  made  his  hasty  exit,  he  chuckled 
audibly,  and  gave  the  steward  an  a2:)proving  wink. 

When  he  went  into  the  cabin  to  supper  he  jingled 
some  silver  in  his  pocket,  and  shook  his  head  in  a  very 
wise  and  knowing  manner. 

"  You'll  come  out  at  the  top  of  the  heap  before  I  do, 
will  you?''  he  soliloquized.  "•  It  looks  like  it  now,  does 
it  not?  You're  not  sharp  enough  to  make  your  way  in 
this  wicked  Avorld,  my  innocent  young  friend.  I  was  as 
poor  as  you  were  yesterday  morning,  and  now  I've  got 
forty  dollars  to  help  me  along.  A  tig  for  such  fellows 
as  you!     I  am  better  off  without  you," 

Guy,  filled  with  rage  and  grief,  picked  up  his  cap  and 
made  his  way  forward.     Re  fully  realized  now  what  it 

\ 


GUY  FINDS  A  FRIEND.  71 

was  to  be  adrift  in  the  world.  With  no  money  in  his 
pocket,  no  friend  to  whom  he  coukl  go  for  advice  or 
assistance,  and  with  the  prospect  before  him  of  being 
put  off  the  boat  in  a  strange  place  and  among  strange 
people,  his  situation  was  indeed  a  trying  one. 

He  glanced  into  the  steerage  as  he  walked  by  the  door, 
but  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  enter.  It  looked 
gloomy  in  there,  and  the  occupants  stared  at  him  so 
rudely  that  he  hurried  on,  anxious  to  get  out  of  their 
sight. 

"A  man  is  no  man  unless  he  has  money  in  his 
pocket,"  said  the  runaway  to  himself.  "'Everybody  is 
down  on  me  now,  because  I  am  broke.  It  beats  me 
where  that  purse  could  have  gone  so  suddenly.  I  know 
it  was  in  my  pocket  last  night  when  I  hung  up  my 
clothes,  for  I  heard  it  strike  against  the  bulk-head.  If 
it  were  not  for  that  safe  scraj^e  I'd  work  my  way  home 
on  some  vessel,  take  the  whipping  I  know  I'd  get,  and 
settle  down  with  the  determination  to  behave  myself. 
But  I  shall  never  see  home  again,  for  I  shall  starve  to 
death.  I  brought  no  provisions  v/ith  me,  and  I  can't 
raise  the  money  to  buy  a  scat  at  the  second  table.  I 
sha'n't  get  a  bite  to  eat  until  I  reach  Saginaw,  and  then 
I  shall  have  to  beg  it. " 

A  bright  prospect  this  for  the  boy  who  had  so  con- 
fidently expected  to  find  nothing  but  fair  weather  and 
plain  sailing  before  him!  Instead  of  leaving  all  his 
troubles  at  home,  he  was  running  into  others  that  he 
had  never  dreamed  of. 

"■Here  you  are!"  exclaimed  a  cheery  voice  at  his 
elbow.     "  Come  in  and  take  a  bite  with  us." 

Guy,  who  had  been  walking  along  with  his  eyes  fast- 
ened thojghtfull}^  on  the  deck,  looked  up  and  found 
himself  in  front  of  an  open  door  that  led  into  the 
quarters  occupied  by  the  crew  of  the  projDeller,  who 
were  engaged  in  eating  their  supper.  In  one  corner  of 
the  room  was  a  huge  mess-chest,  which  did  duty  as  a 
table,  and  the  sailors  sat  around  it,  holding  their  plates 
on  their  knees, 


72  GUY  HARRIS. 

Guy  stopped  and  took  a  good  look  at  the  man  wliose 
voice  had  aroused  him  from  his  reverie,  and  recognized 
him  at  once  as  one  of  the  wheelsmen.  He  was  a  man 
ratlier  past  the  prime  of  life,  with  grizzly  hair  and 
whiskers,  and  hands  and  face  as  brown  as  an  Indian's. 
Although  he  was  somewhat  better  dressed  than  the  ma- 
jority of  his  companions,  and  had  doubtless  bestowed  a 
little  pains  upon  his  toilet  before  sitting  down  to  sup- 
per, he  was  a  rough-looking  fellow,  but  still  there  was 
something  in  the  mild  blue  eye  which  beamed  from 
under  his  shaggy  brows  that  won  Guy's  heart  at  once. 

''^  You're  the  lad  who  lost  his  money,  ain't  you?" 
continued  the  sailor. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  replied  Guy,  almost  ready  to  cry  again. 

'^Haven't  you  nary  shot  in  tlie  locker?" 

"'  Not  one.     I'm  dead  broke." 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  sailor  kindly,  seeing  that 
Guy's  eyes  were  rapidly  filling  with  tears.  "  I've  known 
many  a  man  in  my  time  in  the  same  fix.  Why,  bless 
you,  when  I  was  your  age  I  used  to  think  no  more  of  it 
than  1  did  of  eating  my  regular  allowance  of  salt  horse 
or  standing  my  trick  at  the  wheel.  Haven't  had  any 
supper,  have  you  ?" 

"  No;  nor  I  can't  get  any,  either." 

"^  Yes,  you  can.  AValk  up  to  that  table  and  call  for 
what  yoi*  want.  We've  four  darkey  waiters,  but  they've 
all  gone  out  to  the  galley  after  the  plum-pudding. 
They'll  be  in  directly.  When  you  have  greased  your 
jaAv-tackle  wdtli  some  of  our  turkey  and  other  fine  fix- 
ings, tell  us  how  you  come  to  be  out  here  so  far  from 
shore  without  a  cent  in  your  pocket  for  ballast." 

Guy  understood  the  invitation  thus  conveyed,  and  did 
not  hesitate  to  accept  it.  He  did  not  wait  for  the 
darkies  to  come  in  with  the  plum-pudding,  and  neither 
did  he  find  "turkey  and  other  fine  fixings"  on  the 
chest;  but  there  was  an  abundant  supply  of  good, 
wholesome  food,  and  Guy  having  found  an  empt}'  plate 
helped  himself  most  bountifully.  His  spirits  rose  a 
little  as  his  appetite  became  somewhat  appeased,  and  in 


GUY  FIAWS  A  FRIEND.  "J'S 

compliance  with  the  wheelsman's  repeated  request  he 
related  the  story  of  his  loss,  to  which  ever3'body  listened 
with  interest.  When  he  came  to  tell  that  the  steward 
had  taken  his  room  from  him,  and  that  the  cajitain  had 
ordered  that  he  mnst  go  ashore  at  the  steamer's  first 
landing-place,  he  could  scarcely  restrain  his  tears. 

After  he  had  finished  his  narrative  some  of  the  sailors 
questioned  him  in  regard  to  his  history,  but  when  they 
got  through  they  knew  no  more  than  when  they  begun, 
for  Guy  gave  anything  but  truthful  answers.  The 
wheelsman  said  nothing.  He  seemed  to  be  thinking 
busily.  When  he  had  laid  aside  his  plate  and  filled  a 
short,  black  pij^e,  which  he  drew  from  his  pocket,  he 
beckoned  to  Guy,  who  followed  him  to  the  main  deck. 

"  JSTow,  then,"  said  the  wheelsman  as  he  and  the 
runaway  seated  themselves  beside  an  open  gangway,  out 
of  earshot  of  everybody,  ''you  say  your  name  is  John 
Thomas.  Mine's  Dick  Flint,  and  I'm  glad  to  see  you. 
How  are  you  ?" 

"Well  enough  in  body,  but  rather  uncomfortable  in 
mind,"  replied  Guy  as  he  took  the  sailor's  hand  and 
shook  it  cordially.  "  But,  after  all,  1  feel  better  than  I 
did  an  hour  ago,  for  I've  had  something  to  eat." 

"  I  know  how  it  seems  to  be  hungry,"  said  the  wheels- 
man. "Xow,  maybe  you  wouldn't  lose  nothing  if  you 
was  to  tell  me  your  plans.  What  are  yon  going  to  do 
when  you  reach  the  AVestern  country?  Got  any  folks 
there?" 

"I  have  an  uncle,  as  I  have  already  told  you,"  replied 
Guy,  "but  I  don't  know  where  he  is.  Indeed,  I 
don't  much  care;  for  siiice  I  left  Syracuse  I  have 
changed  my  mind  about  trying  to  find  him.  I  am  going 
to  be  a  hunter  and  trapper. " 

"You  are!"  exclaimed  Flint,  measuring  the  boy  with 
his  eye. 

"  Yes.  I  am  going  out  to  the  Eocky  Mountains  to 
fight  Indians  and  grizzly  bears  and  make  mjself  famous. 
There's  plenty  of  fun  and  excitement  to  be  found  in 
that  life,  and  I  have  always  wanted  to  follow  it." 


74  GUY  HARRIS. 

' '  If  it  is  excitement  you  are  after  you  had  better  go 
to  sea.  You'll  find  it  there,  take  my  word  for  it.  I 
don't  know  anything  about  this  hunting  business,  but 
you'll  need  guns  and  traps,  won't  you?  And  how  are 
you  going  to  get  them  with  your  locker  empty?" 

''Yes,  I  shall  need  at  least  three  hundred  dollars;  but 
where  it  is  to  come  from  I  don't  know.  I  must  go  to 
work  and  earn  it  somehow." 

"  Did  you  ever  follow  any  kind  of  business?" 

"No;  I  have  been  to  school  all  my  life." 

"  AVell,  you  had  better  go  a-sailoring  with  me.  You 
can  earn  the  money  you  want  in  that  way.  You  see,  I 
don't  run  here  on  the  lakes — I  belong  outside." 

"  Outside?"  repeated  Guy. 

"Yes,  out  on  the  ocean.  I  have  sailed  the  blue 
water,  man  and  boy,  for  thirty-five  years,  and  if  I  live  I 
exj)ect  to  sail  it  thirty-five  more.  I  left  an  old  mother 
in  Ohio  when  I  went  to  sea — I  ran  away  from  her,  like  a 
fool  as  I  was — and  for  twenty  years  I  never  heard  from 
her.  At  last  I  found  myself  in  Boston  with  a  few  hun- 
dreds in  my  pocket,  and  I  thought  I  would  go  back  to 
the  old  place,  and,  if  my  mother  was  still  above  hatches, 
the  money  I  had  saved  would  make  her  comfortable  for 
the  rest  of  her  days.  But  I  didn't  find  her,"  said  Flint, 
while  a  sorrowful  expression  settled  on  his  face — "never 
had  a  chance  to  tell  her  how  sorry  I  was  that  I  had 
treated  her  so,  and  that  if  she  would  forgive  me  and 
own  me  as  her  son  once  more  I  would  try  and  make  up 
for  it.  She  had  been  under  the  sod  ten  years,  and  the 
old  place  was  in  the  hands  of  strangers.  Nobody  knew 
me  or  ever  heard  of  me.  Of  course  I  couldn't  stay 
there,  and  hearing  that  there  was  a  schooner  in  Chicago 
loading  for  Liverpool,  I  went  up  and  engaged  a 
berth  on  her.  Finding  that  she  wasn't  ready  to  sail,  I 
shipped  as  wheelsman  in  this  tub  to  go  one  trip  to  Buf- 
falo and  back.  The  schooner  will  be  off  the  Avays  and 
have  her  cargo  aboard  by  the  time  we  get  there,  and  if 
you  say  the  word  maybe  I  can  work  you  in  as  cabin-boy 
or  something." 


GC/V  FTNDS  A  FRIEND.  75 

''  But  you  forget  that  I  must  leave  this  boat  at  Sagi- 
naw," said  Guy. 

''  No,  I  don't.  There's  more'n  one  way  to  get  around 
that.     Will  you  go?     That's  what  I  Avant  to  know?" 

"  I  will,  and  I  am  under  great  obligations  to  you  for 
the  offer." 

"  Belay  that,"  said  the  sailor.  "  I  know  what  it  is  to 
be  without  money  or  friends — I  am  used  to  it,  but  you 
ain't,  I  can  see  that  plain  enough,  and  I  want  to  help 
YOU  out.  Now  about  your  money — when  did  you  see  it 
last?" 

The  loss  of  the  2)urse  was  a  matter  that  the  wheels- 
man inquired  into  very  particularly.  He  questioned 
Guy  closely  for  ten  minutes,  and  having  finished  his 
pipe,  knocked  the  ashes  from  it  and  arose  to  his  feet. 

"I  must  go  on  watch  now,"  said  he.  "  When  you 
get  ready  to  go  to  bed,  tumble  into  my  bunk.  There's 
room  enough  in  it  for  both  of  us,  and  any  of  the  boys 
will  show  you  where  it  is.  Keep  up  a  good  heart  and 
you'll  come  out  all  right.  I'll  make  a  sailor  man  of 
you." 

Flint  walked  off,  leaving  Guy  sitting  silent  and 
thougbtful.  His  mind  was  relieved  of  a  great  load  of 
anxiety,  for  he  had  found  somebody  to  lean  upon.  And 
this  new  friend  was  more  to  his  liking  than  the  one  he 
had  lost,  for  he  had  more  confidence  in  him.  Having 
been  a  wanderer  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  for  thirty- 
five  years,  Flint  of  course  knew  all  about  his  position 
and  was  fully  competent  to  give  advice  in  any  emer- 
gency. But  still  there  was  one  objection  to  him.  Guy 
would  have  thought  more  of  him  if  he  had  been  a  hun- 
ter instead  of  a  sea-faring  man.  He  did  not  want  to  go 
before  the  mast  for  he  was  too  firmly  wedded  to  his  idea 
of  living  in  the  woods.  He  had  thought  and  dreamed 
of  it  for  years,  and  he  clung  to  it  still. 

"This  sailoring  will  be  a  merely  temporary  business," 
thought  Guy,  "  and  perhaps  it  is  after  all  the  best  thing 
I  could  do.  I  am  well  enough  acquainted  with  city  life 
to  know  that  I  can't  make  much  money  at  anything  just 


76  GUY  HARRIS. 

now,  having  no  trade  or  profession.  The  only  course 
open  to  me  is  to  go  into  a  store  or  office,  and  there  I 
could  command  but  three  or  four  dollars  a  week,  out  of 
which  I  should  have  to  pay  my  board,  so  I  could  not 
save  anything.  I  may  be  able  to  earn  eight  or  ten  dol- 
lars a  month  as  cabin-boy,  and  as  I  shall  be  under  no 
expense  for  board  of  course  I  shall  have  all  my  money 
at  the  end  of  the  voyage.  Besides,  while  I  am  earning 
the  three  hundred  dollars  I  need,  I  shall  be  getting  used 
to  hard  fare  and  hard  weather,  and  consequently  I  shall 
be  in  better  condition  to  begin  my  career  as  a  hunter.  I 
shall  adopt  Flint's  plan,  for  I  don't  think  I  could  do 
better." 

Having  come  to  this  conclusion  Guy  made  his  way  to 
the  sailors'  quarters  and  went  to  bed  in  a  very  happy 
frame  of  mind. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    BUCKSKIX    PURSE. 


UEING  the  next  two  days  Guy  was  as  light 
of  heart  as  a  boy  could  possibly  be.  He 
messed  and  bunked  Avith  the  sailors,  and  soon 
]  eg'un  to  feel  so  much  at  home  among  them 
that  he  would  not  have  gone  back  into  the  cabin  if  he 
had  been  allowed  the  privilege.  It  is  true  he  sometimes 
told  himself  that  these  unkempt,  swaggering  fellows  in 
blue  flannel  shirts  and  canvas  trousers  were  not  just  the 
!3ort  of  men  that  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  associating 
with  at  home.  But  after  all  he  cared  very  little  for 
that.  He  expected  to  mingle  with  rough  characters  and 
lead  a  rough  life  all  his  days,  and  the  sooner  he  com- 
menced the  sooner  he  would  get  used  to  it. 

He  saw  the  steward  occasionally,  but  that  worthy 
never  noticed  him.  He  knew  of  course  that  Guy  could 
not  leave  the  steamer  until  she  made  a  landing,  and  if 
in  the  meantime  the  crew  were  disposed  to  take  him  and 
care  for  him,  it  was  no  concern  of  his.  All  he  wanted 
of  Guy  was  to  keep  away  from  that  part  of  the  vessel 
devoted  to  the  use  of  the  cabin  passengers. 

Guy  also  saw  Bob  Walker  every  day,  but  never  spoke 
to  him.  Indeed  he  was  not  allowed  an  opportunity,  for 
whenever  Bob  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  he  would  throw 
up  his  head,  stick  his  cigar  (and  he  always  had  one  in 
his  mouth)  up  toward  his  right  cheek,  and  walk  off 
with  all  the  indei^endence  imaginable.  This  always 
made  Guy  very  angry. 

"  He  thinks  he  is  some,  but  he'll  be  glad  to  sulk  away 
and  hide  himself  before  we  reach  Chicago,"  soliloquized 
Guy.  "  He  smokes  at  least  ten  or  a  dozen  cigars  every 
day;  and  twelve  cigars  at  ten  cents  each  amount  to  a 
dollar  and  twenty  cents — in  two  days,  two  dollars  and 


-^8  GUY  HARRIS. 

forty  cents.  He  told  me  he  didn^t  have  half  a  dollar  in 
his  pocket;  and  if  that  was  the  truth,  where  does  he  get 
those  cigars?  I  don't  wonder  Flint  suspects  him.  I 
would  have  suspected  him  myself  if  I  had  been  sharp." 

On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  after  leaving  Nor- 
wall,  Flint  hurried  into  the  crew's  quarters,  where  Guy 
was  dreaming  away  the  time  in  his  bunk,  and  shook  him 
roughly  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Eoll  out  now,"  said  he.  'SSaginaw  is  close  by. 
We  shall  be  alongside  the  pier  in  half  an  hour,  and  you 
must  be  ready  to  get  off.     Where's  your  dunnage?" 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Guy,  pulling  his  valise  and  bundle 
out  of  an  empty  berth. 

"^What  have  you  got  in  that  carpet-sack?  I  heard 
something  rattle,  and  you  lift  it  as  though  it  was 
heavy. " 

"So  it  is.     I've  got  my  hunting  equipments  in  here." 

'■'■  Eoll  'em  out,  and  let's  have  a  look  at  'em." 

Guy  accordingly  produced  the  key  and  unlocked  his 
valise.  The  sailor  looked  into  it,  examined  the  con- 
tents, and  said: 

"  You  can't  take  them  things  on  board  ship  with  you, 
and  you  might  as  well  get  rid  of  them  one  time  as 
another.     Chuck  'em  overboard." 

Guy  was  astonished,  and  at  first  felt  like  flatly  refus- 
ing to  obey  the  order.  He  had  been  to  considerable 
trouble  and  some  expense  to  collect  the  articles  compris- 
ing the  outfit,  and  he  could  not  bear  to  part  with  them. 
But  after  a  little  reflection  he  thought  better  of  it,  and 
gathering  them  all  up  in  his  arms, "he  went  to  the  door, 
looked  up  and  down  the  deck  to  make  sure  that  there 
was  no  one  in  sight,  and  threw  them  into  the  water. 

The  hunting-knife,  on  the  handle  of  which  he  had 
intended  to  score  a  notch  for  every  grizzly  bear  he 
"rubbed  ont;"  the  lead,  which,  melted  into  bullets,  was 
to  have  created  such  havoc  among  the  buffaloes  and 
antelopes  of  the  prairie;  the  traps  that  were  to  have 
made  him  rich  and  famous — all  went  down  among  the 
fishes.     The  rubber  blankets  alone  remained  afloat,  and 


THE  BUCKSKIN-  PURSE.  79 

after  giving  a  melanclioly  flap  or  two,  as  if  bidding  him 
farewell,  faded  from  his  view  in  the  fast-gathering 
twilight, 

"  Now,"  said  the  wheelsman,  when  Guy  came  back  to 
him,  "what's  in  that  bundle?  Your  clothes?  "Well, 
put  'em  into  your  carpet-sack,  and  while  you're  doing  it, 
listen  to  what  I  have  to  say.  I  must  talk  fast,  for  both 
me  and  my  partner  have  to  be  at  the  wheel  when  we 
make  a  landing.  By  the  time  we  reach  the  pier  it  will 
be  pitch  dark.  As  soon  as  the  gang-j^lank  is  out,  take 
your  dunnage  and  go  ashore.  Follow  a  long  wood-pile 
which  you  will  find  on  the  pier  until  you  come  to  the 
shore  end  of  it,  and  then  round  to  and  come  back  to  the 
propeller  on  the  opposite  side.  Do  you  understand?  I 
shall  be  relieved  from  the  wheel  by  that  time,  and  I'll  be 
standing  on  deck  last  over  the  after  gangway.  You'll 
see  me,  and  you  must  keej  watch  of  me,  too,  for  when 
the  coast  is  clear  I'll  wave  my  hat,  and  you  must  run  up 
the  gang-plank  and  dodge  into  tne  engineers'  locker. 
You  know  where  that  :s,-  don't  you?" 

"  Yes;  but  what  will  tne  engineers  say  if  they  see  me 
going  in?" 

"  Nothing.  I've  talked  it  all  over  with  them,  and  they 
said  I  might  stow  you  away  in  there.  They're  sorry  for 
you  because  you  lost  your  money.  Behind  the  door  of 
the  locker  you'll  find  a  chest  with  a  blanket  and  pillow 
in  it,  and  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  turn  in  and  keep  still. 
You  can  lay  there  as  snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug,  for  nobody 
except  the  engineers  ever  goes  near  that  locker,  and  they 
won't  bother  you." 

"Flint!""  shouted  the  mate  on  watch  at  this  moment. 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!"  answered  the  saiior.  "I  must  go  to 
the  wheel  now.     Can  you  rememcer  what  I  have  said?" 

"Yes,  I  can,"  replied  Guy. 

^'  Be  careful  that  no  one  sees  you  when  you  come 
aboard,"  said  Flint  earnestly,  "or  you'll  get  me  and  the 
engineer  in  hot  water." 

So  saying,  the  wheelsman  hurried  away,  and  Guy  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  bunks  near  the  door  to  wait  until 


80  GUY  HARRIS. 

the  propeller  reached  the  shore.  8he  had  scarcely 
touched  the  pier  when  the  steward  came  up. 

''Ah,  here  you  are!"  he  exclaimed,  slapping  Guy 
familiarly  on  the  shoulder.  "  I  have  been  looking  for 
you.  It  is  time  you  were  making  yourself  scarce  about 
here." 

"  I  am  going  as  soon  as  the  gang-plank  is  shoved  out/' 
rejilied  Guy. 

"  But  I  want  to  Kee  you  go.  I  am  well  posted  in  the 
tricks  of  you  dead-beats,  and  can't  be  fooled  easy.  Come 
on.  That  isn't  all  your  baggage,"  he  added  as  Guy 
picked  up  his  valise.  "  You  had  a  bundle  when  you 
came  on  board." 

"If  you  are  better  acquainted  with  my  business  than 
I  am,  you  had  better  attend  to  it,"  replied  the  boy,  who 
did  not  like  the  steward's  domineering  tone.  '•'  I  guess 
I  know  what  I  am  doing." 

He  pushed  past  the  officer  as  he  spoke,  and  started 
down  the  stairs.  On  the  way  he  met  with  Bob  AA'alker, 
who  was  loitering  around  on  purpose  to  see  him  oif. 

Bob  winked  at  the  steward  and  nodded  familiarly  to 
Guy,  who  returned  the  recognition  with  a  savage  scowl. 
When  the  latter  disappeared  down  the  stairs.  Bob  seated 
himself  on  the  railing,  and  drawing  a  buckskin  purse 
from  his  pocket,  shook  it  in  his  closed  hands,  and 
smiled  complacently.  If  one  might  judge  by  the  loud 
jingling  of  its  contents,  the  purse  was  well  filled. 

'*'  Now,  my  young  boy,"  said  the  steward,  when  he  and 
Guy  had  descended  the  gang-plank  that  led  to  the  pier, 
"I  shall  stand  here  until  I  see*  you  safely  ashore. 
Good-by,  and  the  next  time  you  start  out  on  your 
travels,  be  sure  you've  got  money  in  your  pocket." 

Guy  bolted  oif  without  saying  a  word  in  reply.  The 
extraordinary  interest  the  steward  took  in  his  move- 
ments was  something  he  had  not  bargained  for,  and  he 
was  very  much  afraid  that  he  might  not  succeed  in  re- 
turning to  the  steamer  without  being  seen  by  him  or 
some  one  else  who  would  order  him  asliore  again. 

AVhat  could  he  do  in  that  case?     tSaginaw^  what  little 


THE  BUCKSKIN  PURSE.  81 

he  was  able  to  see  of  it  by  the  aid  of  the  light  from  the 
lanterns  and  torches  on  the  pier,  was  not  a  cheerful- 
looking  place.  More  than  that,  he  did  not  know  a 
soul  there;  and  where  could  he  go  to  pass  the  night  and 
find  a  breakfast  the  next  morning?  The  only  friend  he 
had  that  side  of  N  orwall  was  the  wheelsman,  and  sooner 
than  lose  him  he  would  do  something  desperate. 

Casting  his  eye  over  his  shoulder  occasionally,  he  saw 
that  the  steward  was  not  only  keeping  watch  of  him, 
but  that  he  was  following  him  to  see  that  he  went 
ashore. 

There  were  two  others  watching  him  also — Bob 
Walker,  who  was  perched  upon  the  rail,  and  Dick 
Flint,  who  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  to  the 
wheel-house. 

'^  Bob  is  very  anxious  to  see  the  last  of  me,"  said  Guy 
to  himself,  "and  that,  in  my  opinion,  is  another  proof 
that  he  stole  my  money.  But  he  isn't  as  smart  as  he 
thinks  he  is,  and  neither  is  the  steward.  With  Flint's 
help  I  can  fool  tnem  both.  There's  no  use  in  spoiling 
things  by  being  in  too  great  a  hurry.  The  crew  are 
getting  ready  to  wood-up,  so  I  shall  have  plenty  of 
time." 

Guy  made  his  way  along  the  wood-pile,  but  when  he 
reached  the  end  of  it  he  could  not  "  round  to  and  come 
up  on  the  other  side,"  as  the  sailor  had  told  him  to  do, 
so  he  kept  straight  ahead,  and  having  reached  the  shore, 
stopped  in  the  shadow  of  a  warehouse.  Neither  Bob 
nor  the  steward  could  see  him  there,  but  as  the  pier  and 
the  steamer  were  brilliantly  lighted  up,  he  could  observe 
their  every  movement. 

He  saw  the  steward,  who  had  followed  him  to  the  end 
of  the  wood-pile,  gaze  steadily  at  the  warehouse  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  then  turn  about,  go  back  to  the  pro- 
peller, and  disappear  in  the  gangway.  Bob  also  left  his 
perch  after  a  little  delay,  and  that  was  a  signal  to  Guy 
to  bestir  himself. 

He  ran  quickly  down  the  bank  to  the  pier,  and  throw- 
ing himself  on  his  hands  and  knees  behind  the  wood- 


S2  GUY  HARRIS. 

pile^  made  his  way  toward  the  steamer,  dragging  his 
valise  after  him.  In  a  few  seconds  more  he  was  crouch- 
ing close  at  the  edge  of  the  pier,  waiting  impatiently  for 
a  sign  from  Dick  Flint,  who  was  Avalking  slowly  up  and 
down  the  deck. 

Bob  Walker,  having  seen  Guy  disappear  behind  the 
warehouse,  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  and  j^ulled  a 
fresh  cigar  from  his  jiocket. 

"He  has  gone  at  last,'*'  said  he,  and  I  am  safe.  His 
presence  for  the  last  three  days  has  been  a  perfect  tor- 
ture to  me;  but  from  this  time  forward  I  shall  stand  in 
no  fear  of  discovery.  There  comes  the  steward,  and  I 
might  as  well  have  a  glass  of  ale,^" 

I3ob  was  very  observing,  and  the  Queen  of  the  Lakes 
iiad  not  been  many  hours  out  of  tlie  port  of  Norwall  be- 
fore he  began  to  learn  something.  He  noticed  that 
there  were  two  or  three  gentlemen  among  the  cabin 
passengers  who  made  regular  hourly  visits  to  some 
2)lace  abaft  the  cabin,  and  that  when  they  came  back 
they  were  either  smoking  fragrant  cigars  or  wiping 
their  lips  as  if  they  had  something  good  to  eat  or  drink. 
Bob  made  it  his  business  to  follow  them  on  one  of  their 
excursions,  and  found  that  tliey  stopped  in  front  of  a 
little  bar  kept  by  +):e  steward.  After  that  Bob  went 
there  on  his  own  responsibility,  and  became  one  of  the 
best  customers  at  the  bar.  As  he  always  paid  for  Avhat 
he  got,  and  seemed  to  have  plenty  of  money,  the  stew- 
ard cultivated  his  acquaintance,  and  was  ready  to  serve 
him  with  a  cigar  or  a  glass  of  ale  at  any  hour  of  the  day 
or  night. 

On  this  particular  evening,  as  Bob  made  his  way  aft, 
a  sailor  followed  him  at  a  respectful  distance.  While 
he  stood  at  the  bar,  the  man,  Avho  Avas  partially  con- 
cealed behind  a  stanchion,  took  off  his  hat  and  waved  it 
once  or  twice  in  the  air,  whereupon  a  figure  which  was 
crouching  at  the  end  of  the  wood-i)ile  sprung  up  and 
darted  into  the  gangway  like  a  flash.  It  Avas  Guy 
Harris. 

Kapid  as  his  movements  Avere,  hoAvever,  he  did  not 


THE  BUCKSKIN-  rURSE.  S3 

succeed  in  entering  the  gangway  without  cliscoveiT; 
for  Bob,  having  received  some  change  from  the  steward, 
Avho  at  once  closed  the  bar  and  went  off,  faced  about, 
and  while  putting  the  money  away  in  his  purse,  haj^- 
pened  to  cast  his  eye  toward  the  j)ier  just  in  time  to  see 
Guy  jumjD  up  from  behind  the  wood-pile.  He  thought 
he  recognized  him,  and  to  make  sure  of  it  leaned  quickly 
over  the  side  and  obtained  a  good  view  of  him. 

"Now that  plan  won't  Avork,  my  young  friend,"  he 
exclaimed,  and  so  astonished  was  he  that  he  spoke  the 
vrords  aloud.  '"'It  will  never  do  to  let  you  stay  here. 
I'll  have  you  put  off  again  before  you  are  five  minutes 
older." 

Bob  hastily  put  the  purse  into  his  pocket  and  Avas 
hurrying  forward  Avhen  he  found  himself  brought  to  a 
stand-still  by  a  burly  fellow  who  suddenly  stepped  before 
him  and  blocked  up  his  path. 

"  Hold  hard  there!'''  said  the  latter.  •"'  AMiej-e  are  you 
going?" 

"^  I  want  to  find  the  steward,''  ansAvered  Bob,  trying 
to  crowd  by  the  sailor. 

"  Hold  hard  there,  I  say  I"  repeated  the  man,  seizing 
Bob  by  the  collar  and  pushing  him  back.  "  What  do 
you  Avant  to  see  the  steAvard  for  ?" 

''What's  that  to  you,  3'ou  insolent  felloAv?  Let  me 
pass,  and  don't  dare  put  your  hand  on  me  again.  If 
you  do,  I  Avill  report  you  to  the  captain." 

"Oh,  you  Avill,  Avill  you?  Come  on,  there's  the  old 
man  on  the  pier." 

Flint,  for  it  Avas  he,  linked  his  braAvny  arm  through 
Bob's  and  made  a  motion  to  pull  him  toward  the  stairs, 
but  the  boy  drcAv  back, 

"  Why  don't  you  come  on?"  cried  the  Avheelsman. 
"I  thought  you  wanted  to  report  me  to  the  ca]3'n. 
What  have  you  got  to  say  to  the  steAvard,  I  ask  you  ?" 

"  There's  a  felloAv  beloAV  who  is  going  to  steal  a  ride 
to  Chicago,"  replied  Bob,  alarmed  at  the  man's  tone 
and  manner. 

"No,  he  hain't,"  said  Flint.  "He's  only  come  back 
to  get  his  money.     Hand  it  out  here." 


84  GUY  HARRIS. 

Bob's  assurance  was  pretty  well  frightened  out  of  him 
by  these  words.  His  secret  was  not  safe  after  all.  He 
made  a  strong  effort  to  keep  up  his  courage. 

"  Hand  what  out?"  he  asked,  trying  to  assume  a  look 
of  injured  innocence. 

"Oh,  you  don't  know  nothing  about  it,  do  you?  I 
want  that  buckskin  purse  that  you  just  put  into  your 
pocket.  There's  fifteen  dollars  in  it,  or  ought  to  be, 
and  you  stole  it  from  your  room-mate  on  the  lirst  night 
out  from  ISTorwall.     Hand  it  over,  I  say." 

"  I  didn't  steal  anj^  money.  You  didn't  see  me  put 
any  buckskin  purse  into  my  pocket,  and  I  haven't  got 
any,  either.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  let  me 
pass. " 

*'  You  needn't  put  on  no  frills  with  me,  'cause  they 
won't  go  down.  You  didn't  know  that  the  curtain  of 
the  window  of  your  state-room  was  ujo  that  night,  did 
you?  You  didn't  think  I  saw  you  when  you  took  that 
purse  out  of  your  room-mate's  pocket,  did  you?  Well, 
I  did;  and  I  heard  you  tell  him  when  he  asked  you  what 
you  Avere  doing,  that  you  had  been  out  on  deck  to  see 
how  things  were  going  on,  and  that  it  was  raining 
buckets  and  blowing  great  guns  butt-end  foremost. 
Aha!"  he  added,  seeing  that  an  expression  of  unbounded 
astonishment  overspread  Bob's  pale  face.  "  I  know  all 
about  it,  don't  I?  I  stood  here,  too,  while  you  were 
loafing  at  that  bar,  and  saw  you  take  that  same  purse 
from  your  pocket  and  pay  for  a  glass  of  something  out 
of  it.  And  there  it  is,  right  there,"  said  Flint,  making 
a  sudden  dash  at  the  boy's  pocket  and  clutching  it  and 
its  contents  with  a  firm  grasp.  "^  Now  hand  it  out 
without  no  more  words,  or  I'll  walk  you  down  to  the 
old  man  and  have  you  locked  up  for  a  thief.  1  sha'n't 
ask  you  again." 

Bob  was  utterly  confounded.  The  conversation  be- 
tween him  and  Guy  on  the  first  night  out  had  taken 
place  just  as  the  sailor  had  repeated  it,  and  that  was  the 
time  he  had  stolen  the  purse  from  his  friend's  jjocket. 
But  how  in  the  world  could  the  theft  have  been  found 


THE  BUCKSKIN  PURSE.  85 

out?  Guy  did  not  see  him  take  the  money,  for  he  was 
asleep.  Beyond  a  doubt  Flint  told  the  truth  when  he 
said  that  he  had  observed  the  whole  proceeding.  Over- 
come with  fear  and  rage  Bob  could  not  speak.  Mistak- 
ing his  silence  for  obstinac}',  the  wheelsman  seized  him 
by  the  collar  and  began  dragging  him  toward  the  stairs, 
intending  to  take  him  before  the  caj)tain.  Then  Bob 
found  his  tongue  very  speedily. 

''  Hold  OTi,"  he  cried.  ''  If  I  give  you  the  money  will 
you  promise  that  you  won't  blow  on  me?" 

"I'll  keep  still  if  you  do;  but  if  I  hear  you  lisp  a  word 
about  a  fellow's  trying  to  steal  a  ride  to  Chicago  I'll  have 
you  locked  up  as  sure  as  you're  alive.  Now,"  he  added, 
as  Bob  placed  the  purse  in  his  hands,  "how  much  have 
you  spent  out  of  it?" 

"Just  ten  cents.''' 

"Well,  hand  it  out  here.  I  must  have  fifteen  dollars. 
ISTot  a  red  less  will  satisfy  me." 

"  I  have  nothing  smaller  than  a  dollar." 

"  Then  give  me  that.     I'll  take  it  for  interest." 

Bob  did  not  dare  refuse.  He  gave  the  money  to  the 
wheelsman,  Avho  said,  as  he  put  it  away  in  the  purse: 

"  IS'ow  go  into  your  room,  and  don't  show  your  face  on 
deck  again  until  this  vessel  is  well  under  way.  Keep  a 
still  tongue  in  your  head  and  I'll  do  the  same." 

Bob,  glad  enough  to  get  out  of  the  man's  sight,  at 
once  started  for  the  cabin.  Flint  watched  him  out  of 
sight  and  then  rolled  otf  toward  the  wheel-house,  wink- 
ing and  nodding  his  head  as  if  he  were  highly  gratified 
at  what  he  had  done. 


CHAPTER   X. 

WHAT   BOB    FOUND    IN    CHICAGO. 

UY  HAVING,  as  he  supposed,  made  his  way 
on  board  the  propeller  without  being  seen  by 
anybody,  ran  with  all  possible  speed  toward 
the  engine-room,  keeping  a  good  lookout  on 
all  sides  for  fear  of  meeting  the  steward  who,  as  he  had 
learned  to  his  cost,  had  a  way  of  turning  up  most  unex- 
pectedly. That  officer  was  not  in  sight,  however,  but 
somebody  else  was,  as  Guy  found  when  he  entered  the 
engineer's  room.  It  was  the  striker,  who  was  busy  oiling 
the  machinery. 

The  runaway  stopped,  undecided  what  to  do.  The 
man,  hearing  the  sound  of  his  footstejis,  looked  up,  and 
after  casting  his  eyes  all  about  him,  nodded  encourag- 
ingly, and  pointed  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder 
toward  the  door  of  the  locker,  Avhich  stood  invitingly 
open.  This  reassured  Guy,  who  started  forward  again, 
and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  was  snugly  curled 
away  in  the  box  behind  the  door. 

The  engineer  came  in  soon  afterward  to  put  away  his 
oil  can,  and  when  he  went  out  he  locked  the  door  after 
him. 

Guy  felt  perfectly  safe  then,  and  told  himself  that 
there  was  no  danger  of  discovery.  No  one  came  near  the 
locker  until  the  propeller  was  well  out  from  Saginaw, 
and  then  Flint  appeared,  carrying  under  his  arm  a 
bundle  wrapped  up  in  a  newspaper. 

'^'  Well,  our  plans  worked  all  right,  didn't  they?"  said 
he,  and  he  seemed  as  highly  elated  as  Guy  himself. 
''You  couldn't  have  a  better  hiding-place  than  this. 
The  steward  would  never  think  of  looking  for  you  here. 


IVHA  T  BOB  FOUND  IN  CHICAGO.  87 

even  if  he  knew  you  were  on  board,  which  he  doesn't. 
There's  only  one  in  the  secret  beside  me  and  the 
engineers,  and  that's  the  friend  who  stole  your  money." 

"Bob  Walker!"  gasped  Guy.  "How  did  he  find  it 
out?" 

"Pie  saw  you  when  you  came  aboard." 

"  Then  my  cak  3  is  all  dough,"  said  Guy  in  great 
alarm.     "  He'll  blow  on  me  sure." 

"  I'll  risk  him,  and  insure  his  silence  for  a  dime,"  re- 
turned Flint.  "He's  afraid  of  me,  and  he'd  better  be; 
for  if  I  hear  of  his  trying  to  get  you  into  trouble,  I'll 
have  him  before  the  cap'n  in  less  time  than  he  could  say 
'  hard  a  port'  with  his  mouth  open.  Here's  your  purse. 
I  knev/  he  had  it." 

"Flint,  you're  a  good  fellow,"  said  Guy,  so  overjoyed 
that  he  could  not  speak  plainly.  "'  I  never  can  repay 
you.     How  did  you  get  it?" 

"  I  saw  him  have  it  in  his  hand,  and  scared  it  out  of 
him.  I  made  him  believe  that  I  was  looking  through 
the  window  when  he  took  it  out  of  your  pocket,  and  told 
him  that  if  he  didn't  hand  it  over,  I'd  have  him  locked 
up.  He  spent  ten  cents  of  the  money,  but  I  made  him 
give  me  a  dollar,  so  you've  got  ninety  cents  for  interest. 
Here's  some  bread  and  cokl  meat  I  brought  you,"  said 
Flint  as  he  deposited  his  bundle  in  one  corner  of  the 
chest.  "  You  will  have  to  live  on  it  until  we  reach 
Chicago,  for  it  won't  be  safe  for  me  to  come  here  very 
often.  Somebody  might  see  me.  You  can  Avalk  aroujid 
a  little  of  nights,  but  don't  show  your  face  outside  the 
locker  in  the  day-time.     Good-by." 

"  Now  that's  a  friend  worth  having,"  said  Guy  to  him- 
self, after  the  wheelsman  had  gone  out.  "  Nobody  need 
tell  me  again  that  it  is  such  hard  work  to  get  on  in  the 
world.  It's  sheer  nonsense.  One  can  always  find  some- 
body to  lend  him  a  helping  hand.  I  am  as  comfortable 
as  I  care  to  be,  and  wouldn't  go  home  if  I  had  the 
chance.  I  am  my  own  m.aster,  and  can  do  as  I  please 
without  asking  anybody's  permission.  I  only  wish  Flint 
was  a  hunter  instead  of  a  sailor." 


88  GUY  HAkRIS. 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  Guy's 
mind,  he  was  rummaging  about  in  the  chest  (it  was  as 
dark  as  a  pocket  in  the  locker),  searching  for  tlie  bundle 
Flint  had  left.  Having  found  it,  he  ate  a  few  slices  of 
the  bread  and  meat,  and  then  pulling  the  blankets  over 
his  head,  curled  up  and  went  to  sleep. 

Before  twenty-four  hours  had  passed  over  his  head 
Guy  found  occasion  to  change  his  mind  in  regard  to 
some  things.  He  learned  that  it  was  exactly  the  re- 
verse of  comfortable  to  be  shut  up  in  such  close  quar- 
ters. He  grew  weary  of  this  confinement,  and  longed 
to  get  out  where  he  could  see  what  was  going  on;  but 
he  followed  Flint's  instructions  to  the  very  letter.  He 
ventured  out  occasionally  at  night  for  five  or  ten  minutes, 
hut  during  the  day  remained  closely  concealed,  passing 
the  time  in  sleeping  and  pacing  up  and  down  his  nar- 
row prison.  While  he  was  taking  his  exercise  he  was 
always  on  the  alert,  and  the  moment  a  key  was  inserted 
into  the  lock  or  a  hand  placed  upon  the  door-knob,  he 
would  jump  into  his  box  and  cover  himself  up  with  the 
blankets.  Three  days  and  nights  were  spent  in  this  way, 
and  then  Flint  once  more  made  his  appearance. 

"  It's  all  right  now,  my  hearty,"  said  he  cheerfully. 
"  We'll  be  in  Chicago  in  another  hour,  and  you  mustn't 
waste  any  time  in  getting  off  after  the  boat  is  made 
fast,  for  I  sha'n't  breathe  easy  until  I  know  you  are 
safe  ashore." 

^'^  Does  anybody  suspect  anything?"  asked  Guy  anx- 
iously. 

"Nobody  except  that  friend  of  yours.  He  hasn't 
said  a  word,  and  it  is  just  as  well  for  him  that  he  didn't; 
but  he's  been  all  over  the  steamer  a  dozen  times  looking 
for  you.  How  have  you  enjoyed  yourself,  anyhow? 
Grub  all  gone  yet?" 

"  Yes;  and  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  wolf." 

"  Never  mind;  we'll  have  a  good  supper  before  long. 
Be  careful  that  no  one  sees  you  when  you  go  off  the 
boat." 

With  this  piece  of  advice  Flint  went  out,  and  Guy, 


IVMA  T  BOB  BOUN-D  IM  CHICAGO.  89 

having  placed  liis  ralise  close  at  hand,  walked  impa- 
tiently up  and  down  the  locker,  waiting  for  the  propeller 
to  make  the  landing. 

Time  moves  on  laggard  wings  when  one  is  in  a  hnrry, 
and  Guy  thought  he  had  never  passed  so  long  an  hour 
before;  but  at  last  the  engineer's  bell  rang,  the  jarring 
and  rocking  of  the  boat  subsided  into  a  gentle,  gliding 
motion,  the  capstan  overhead  began  to  groan  and  rattle, 
and  finally  a  heavy  bump  or  two  announced  that  the 
wharf  had  been  reached.  Guy  heard  the  men  come 
down  to  shove  out  the  gang-j^lank,  and  at  the  same 
moment  one  of  the  engineers  pushed  open  the  door  of 
the  locker  and  nodded  to  him- — a  signal  previously 
agreed  upon  between  him  and  Flint  that  the  coast  was 
clear. 

Guy  picked  up  his  valise  and  ran  quickly  through  the 
engine-room,  but  when  he  came  within  sight  of  the 
gangway  he  saw  that  the  propeller  was  still  moving 
ahead,  and  that  the  gang-plank  had  not  yet  been  pushed 
out.  More  than  that,  his  own  enemy,  the  steward,  was 
com.ing  slowly  dov/n  the  stairs,  and  Guy  caught  sight  of 
him  just  in  time  to  avoid  discovery  by  dodging  into  a 
dark  passage-way. 

As  soon  as  the  steamer's  headway  was  checked  by  the 
lines  the  gang-plank  was  shoved  out,  and  a  man  on  the 
pier,  who  had  been  waiting  for  an  oi:)portunity  to  come  on 
board,  ran  up  and  was  cordially  greeted  by  the  steward. 

"Halloo,  Boyle!"  exclaimed  the  officer  as  the  two  met 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  "what  do  you  want  here?  Are 
you  looking  for  anybody?" 

"Yes,  I  am,"  replied  the  man. 

"  It  isn't  me,  is  it?"  asked  the  steward  with  a  laugh. 

"No,  not  this  time.  I  am  after  a  couple  of  boys  who 
are  supposed  to  have  taken  passage  on  this  steamer  from 
JSTorwall.  Good-looking  young  fellows  they  are,  I  judge 
from  the  description  I  have  of  them.  One  is  tall  and 
slender,  with  light  hair  and  blue  eyes,  is  dressed  in  black 
and  wears  a  straw  hat.     His  name  is  Guy  Harris." 

"Great  Scott!"  thought  the  listening  runaway,  it  is 
all  over  with  me  now." 


90  GUY  HARRIS. 

^'\  don't  know  any  boy  of  that  name/'  replied  the 
steward,  ''  but  we  certainly  had  one  aboard  who  an- 
swered to  that  description.  He  got  off  at  Saginaw,  or 
rather,  we  put  him  off  because  he  had  no  money.  AVhat 
is  the  matter?" 

'*^  Nothing,  only  these  two  young  rascals  have  run 
away  from  home,  and  1  am  directed  to  detain  them  until 
their  fathers  arrive — that's  all.  Harris  got  off  at  Sagi- 
naw, you  say?  I  don't  care;  his  father  is  rich,  I  hear, 
and  the  more  trouble  I  have  to  catch  him  the  more 
money  I  shall  make.  The  other  is  short  and  thickset, 
with  black  hair  and  eyes,  wears  a  blue  beaver  overcoat, 
carries  a  small  black  valise,  and  is  much  given  to  smok- 
ing good  cigars.     His  name  is  Robert  Walker." 

"  I  don't  know  him  by  that  name,  but  there  is  such  a 
boy  onboard,  and  here  he  comes  now," said  the  steward, 
as  the  sound  of  footsteps  was  heard  at  the  top  of  the 
stairs. 

The  steward  and  his  companion  turned  their  backs 
and  appeared  to  be  very  deeply  interested  in  something 
that  was  occurring  on  the  wharf,  while  Guy,  trembling 
with  excitement  and  alarm,  drew  himself  into  as  small 
a  compass  as  possible,  and  waited  to  see  what  was  going 
to  happen.  He  was  in  momentary  fear  of  discovery, 
for  the  two  men  were  scarcely  more  than  twenty  feet 
away,  and  must  have  seen  him  if  they  had  once  turned 
their  eyes  in  his  direction. 

The  footsteps  sounded  nearer,  and  presently  Bob 
Walker  appeared,  smoking  as  usual.  He  carried  his 
valise  in  one  hand,  and  the  other,  being  thrust  into  the 
pocket  of  his  trousers,  held  back  his  overcoat  so  as  to 
show  the  gold  watch-chain  that  hung  across  his  vest. 

He  nodded  familiarly  to  the  steward,  and  was  about 
to  joass  down  the  gang-plank  when  he  who  had  been  ad- 
dressed as  Boyle  suddenly  turned  and  faced  him.  He 
gave  a  stage  start,  opened  his  eyes  to  their  widest  ex- 
tent, looked  fixedly  at  the  boy  for  a  moment,  and  then 
slowly  extended  his  hand,  greeting  him  with: 

"Why,  Bob,  is  it  possible?    How  do  you  do?     How 


'  The  fooisieps  sounded  nearer  and  presently  Bob  V^alkjer 
appeared  smoking ." 


9S  GUY  HARRIS. 

do  you  do,  Bob  "Walker?  How's  your  father  and  mother 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  good  people  of  Korwall?  I 
didn't  expect  to  see  you  here.     Give  us  a  shake/' 

Bob,  taken  completely  by  surprise,  involuntarily  ex- 
tended his  hand,  but  suddenly  recollecting  himself,  as 
quickly  withdrew  it. 

''  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  eithei',"  said  he;  "but,  as 
it  happens,  you've  made  a  mistake.  My  namo  is 
Wheeler." 

Bob's  attempt  to  appear  easy  and  unconcerned  was  a 
miserable  failure.  He  knew  who  the  man  was,  and 
what  brought  him  there,  for  he  accidentally  caught  a 
glimpse  of  something  on  the  under  side  of  the  lappel  of 
his  coat.     It  was  a  detective's  shield! 

Although  his  heart  almost  came  up  into  his  mouth, 
he  did  not  lose  his  courage.  He  tried  to  "  brave  it 
out,"  but,  of  course,  overdid  the  matter,  and  his  be- 
havior was  enough  to  have  removed  the  last  doubt  as  to 
his  identity,  had  any  existed  in  the  mind  of  the  de- 
tective. 

"  And  more  than  that,"  continued  Bob,  "'  I  don't  live 
in  Norwall.     My  home  is  m  Omaha.     Good-evening  I" 

"  G-'oof^-evening,"  said  the  detective.  "  jSTo  offense,  I 
hope  ?" 

"None  whatever,"  replied  Bob  politely.  "We  are 
all  liable  to  make  mistakes." 

"  You  don't  hapj)en  to  have  a  good  cigar  about  your 
clothes,  do  you  ?"  said  the  officer. 

Of  course  Bob  had,  for  he  was  always  well  supplied, 
and  promptly  produced  one. 

The  detective  put  it  between  his  teeth,  and  accept- 
ing Bob's  cigar,  applied  the  lighted  end  to  his  own,  and 
puffed  away  until  it  was  fairly  started,  all  the  while  run- 
ning his  eye  over  the  face  and  figure  of  the  boy  before 
him. 

" Thank  you,"  said  he;  "we'll  smoke  as  we  go  along. 
If  you  are  all  ready,  I  am.  I  see  you  understand  the 
situation,  so  there's  no  use  in  wasting  time  in  words. 
Your  father  will   be  along  some  time  to-morrow,  and 


WHAT  BOB  FOUND  IN  CHICAGO.  93 

any  little  explanations  yon  may  want — why,  he'll  give 
'em  to  you.  I  guess  we  had  better  be  walking  along 
now." 

"  Haven't  you  instructions  to  arrest  somebody  else?" 
asked  Bob,  with  wonderful  courage  and  self-possession. 

'^  Yes;  but  he  doesn't  seem  to  be  here.  He  was  put 
off  at  Saginaw." 

"  I  know  he  was,  but  he  didn't  stay  put  off.  He  is 
somewhere  on  this  boat  now." 

"  My  graciousi"  gasj)ed  Guy,  squeezing  himself  closer 
against  the  bulk-head. 

'^  Oh,  you're  mistaken,"  said  the  steward,  with  some 
surprise  in  his  tones.     "I  saAv  him  go  off  myself." 

"And  I  saw  him  come  back,"  insisted  Bob.  "He  is 
concealed  somewhere  among  tlie  cargo." 

"Humph!"  exclaimed  the  engineer,  who,  while  he 
pretended  to  be  very  busy  rubbing  down  the  machinery, 
was  listening  to  every  word  of  the  conversation.  "  How 
could  he  live  three  days  without  a  bite  to  eat  or  a  drop 
to  drink?" 

"That's  easy  enough  done  when  one  makes  up  his 
mind  to  it,"  said  Bob.  "  He's  on  this  vessel,  and  I 
know  it.  He  is  as  deep  in  the  mud  as  I  am,  and  I  don't 
Avant  to  go  back  without  him.  Won't  you  look  for  him, 
Mr.  Officer?" 

"No,  I  guess  not,"  answered  the  detective,  who  put 
more  faith  in  the  steward's  story  than  he  did  in  Bob's. 
"  I'll  find  him,  sooner  or  later — you  needn't  worry  about 
that.     We'd  better  go  along  now.     Come  on." 

Bob  might  still  have  continued  to  argue  the  matter, 
had  not  the  detective  taken  him  gently  but  firmly  by  the 
arm  and  led  him  down  the  gang-plank. 

Guy,  from  his  place  of  concealment,  watched  him 
until  he  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  and  that  was  the 
last  he  ever  saw  of  him. 

And  what  became  of  Bob  after  that?  His  adventures 
would  make  a  long  story;  but  with  them  we  have  at 
i:)resent  nothing  to  do.  It  will  be  enough  to  say  that  he 
went  home  with  his  father,  who  arrived  in  Chicago  the 


94  GUY  HARRIS. 

next  day;  but  he  did  not  long  remain  with  him.  Al- 
though he  heard  nothing  to  induce  the  belief  that  the 
attempt  he  had  made  upon  Mr.  Harris'  safe  was  known, 
there  were  plenty  who  were  acquainted  with  the  fact  that 
he  had  run  away  from  home,  and  that  made  him  very 
discontented.  The  war  broke  out  shortly  afterward,  and 
Bob  went  into  the  service,  enlisting  as  landsman  in  the 
Mississi|)pi  squadz'on. 

In  two  years,  by  bravery  and  sheer  force  of  character 
(it  is  not  always  the  good  who  are  prosperous,  except  in 
novels),  he  raised  himself  to  the  rank  of  acting  ensign, 
and  held  the  position  of  executive  officer  of  one  of  the 
finest  "  tin-clads  "  in  the  fleet.  But  he  Avas  not  satisfied 
with  this.  The  evil  in  his  nature  was  too  strong  to  be 
kept  down,  and  with  his  captain  he  entered  into  a  con- 
spiracy to  surrender  his  vessel  to  the  rebels  for  a  large 
amount  of  cotton — some  say  four  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars'  worth. 

Bob's  conspiracy  Avas  defeated  through  the  vigilance 
of  a  young  officer,  whose  name  is  known  to  but  few,  and 
whose  exploit,  as  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  learn,  was 
never  mentioned  in  the  report  of  the  Secretary  of  the 
Navy. 

Their  villainous  jDlot  being  discovered.  Bob  and  his 
commanding  officer  made  their  escape  from  the  vessel 
one  dark  night,  and  that  was  the  last  that  was  ever  seen 
of  them. 

Guy  saw  all  that  transpired,  and  listened  to  the  con- 
versation between  Bob  and  the  detective  like  one  in  a 
dream.  He  now  looked  upon  the  temporary  loss  of  his 
money  as  a  blessing  in  disguise,  for  had  he  paid  his  pas- 
sage to  Chicago  his  arrest  would  have  been  certain.  But 
he  felt  comparatively  safe,  for  Boyle  had  been  put  on  a 
wrong  scent.  It  would  take  him  two  or  three  days  to  go 
to  Saginaw  and  back,  and  by  that  time,  if  the  schooner 
was  ready  to  sail,  Guy  and  his  fiiend  would  be  miles  on 
their  way  toward  the  Atlantic  Ocean, 

So  fearful  was  he,  however,  that  the  detective  might 
yet  return  and  take  him  into  custody,  or  that  he  might 


WHA  T  BOB  FOUND  IN  CHICAGO.  95 

be  waiting  on  the  wharf  ready  to  receive  him  when  he 
came  out,  that  Guy  dared  not  leave  his  hiding-place. 

He  saw  the  steward  go  back  up  the  stairs  and  the  cabin 
passengers  come  down  and  go  ashore,  but  he  did  not 
move  until  the  engineer  stepped  up  and  tapped  him  on 
the  shoulder. 

'''Look  here,  my  friend,"  said  he,  Avith  some  impa- 
tience in  liis  tone,  *'  we've  done  all  we  could  for  you,  and 
now  you'd  better  be  making  tracks.  We  don't  want  you 
here  any  longer." 

The  man's  looks  indicated  very  plainly  that,  if  he  did 
not  go  off  the  boat  of  his  own  accord  and  at  once,  he 
would  be  helped  off,  so  G-uy  lost  no  time  in  putting  him- 
self in  motion.  He  caught  \\])  his  valise,  and  without 
stopping  to  thank  the  engineer  for  his  kindness  in  allow- 
ing him  to  use  his  locker  for  a  hiding-place  during  the 
voyage,  hurried  down  the  gang-plank,  and  stopped  in 
the  shadow  of  a  building  on  the  023posite  side  of  the 
wharf.  There  he  was  safe  from  observation,  and  there 
he  remained  until  he  saw  the  wheelsman  come  ashore 
with  his  dunnage  slung  over  his  shoulder. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    BOARDIXG-HOUSE. 

n,  FLINT!"  exclaimed  Guy,  running  to  meet 

the  sailor,  ''  you  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to 

see  you.     I  have  had  a  narrow  escape,  I  tell 

you.    I  just  got  away  from   an   officer   who 

captured  Bob  by  the  skin  of  my  teeth." 

With  this  introduction  Guy  began  the  story  of  his  re- 
cent adventure,  to  which  his  companion  listened  with  all 
his  ears.  He  was  surprised  as  well  as  delighted  to  hear 
what  had  happened  to  Bob  Walker,  and  hastened  to  calm 
the  fears  of  his  young  friend  by  assuring  him  that  as  long 
as  he  followed  in  his  (Flint's)  wake  he  was  in  no  danger. 
In  the  first  place,  he  would  take  him  where  no  detective 
would  ever  tliink  of  looking  for  him;  and  in  the  second, 
they  would  remain  in  the  city  but  a  day  or  two  at  the 
very  furthest,  and  by  the  time  Boyle  could  go  to  Saginaw 
and  back,  they  would  be  on  their  way  to  Liverpool  and 
safe  from  pursuit. 

Flint  fulfilled  the  first  part  of  his  promise  by  con- 
ducting Guy  to  a  sailors'  boarding-house  in  an  obscure 
street,  where  they  ate  suj^per  and  took  lodgings  for  the 
night.  After  breakfast  the  next  morning  they  set  out 
in  company  to  call  upon  the  agent,  whose  business  it 
was  to  ship  the  crew  that  was  to  man  the  schooner  dur- 
ing her  voyage  to  Liverpool.  They  found  him  at  his 
office,  and  after  listening  to  some  astonishing  stories 
from  Flint,  who  declared  that  Gu}""  understood  his 
business  as  cabin-boy,  having  just  been  discharged  from 
the  propeller  Queen  of  the  Lakes,  where  he  had  served 
in  that  capacity  for  the  last  two  months,  the  agent  was 
finally  induced  to  add  the  boy's  name  to  the  shipping 
articles  and  pay  him  his  advance.     Then,  after  a  visit 


THE  BOARDING-HOUSE.  97 

to  a  cheap  clothing  store,  where  Flint  purchased  an 
outfit  for  Guy,  they  returned  to  the  boarding-house 
and  thence  made  their  way  to  their  vessel,  the  Ossipee, 
whicli  was  almost  ready  to  sail. 

During  the  first  part  of  the  voyage  Cluy  had  but  little 
to  complain  of.  Although  he  was  kept  busy  all  the 
time,  his  duties  were  comparatively  light,  the  officers 
were  kind,  the  food  abundant  and  well  cooked,  and  the 
weather  mild  and  agreeable.  Guy  even  begun  to  think 
that  a  career  on  the  ocean-Avave  was,  after  all,  very  pleas- 
ant and  desirable,  and  sometimes  had  serious  thoughts 
of  abandoning  his  idea  of  becoming  a  hunter  and  spend- 
ing the  remainder  of  his  days  upon  the  water.  But 
even  a  sailor's  life  has  its  dark  side,  as  he  dis- 
covered when  they  reached  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence. 
During  a  violent  gale  the  schooner  sprung  a  leak, 
and  from  that  time  until  she  reached  a  port  in  Nova 
Scotia,  into  Avhich  she  put  for  rejDairs,  Guy  never 
once  closed  his  eyes  in  sleep.  He  was  kept  at  the  pumps 
until  every  bone  and  muscle  in  his  body  ached  with 
fatigue,  and  when  relieved  from  them  it  was  only  to 
perform  some  otlier  duty  eqiially  laborious.  It  was  all 
the  creAV  could  do  to  keep  the  schooner  afloat,  and  for 
five  long,  dreary  days  Guy  stood  face  to  face  with  death 
in  one  of  its  most  api^alling  shapes. 

And  what  a  change  that  storm  made  in  the  disposi- 
tion of  every  man  on  board!  The  officers  raved  and 
swore,  and  hastened  obedience  to  their  orders  by  threat- 
ening to  knock  the  men  overboard  with  handspikes  and 
belaying  pins.  Guy,  bewildered  by  the  confusion  and 
noise,  and  frightened  almost  out  of  his  senses  by  the 
danger  he  was  in,  was  forever  getting  into  somebody's 
way,  and  of  course  came  in  for  the  lion's  share  of  abuse. 
He  was  kicked  and  cufl:ed  every  hour  in  the  day  and 
pushed  about  as  if  he  had-  no  more  feeling  than  the 
freight  which  was  so  unceremoniously  thrown  over- 
board. Once  the  mate  ordered  him  to  "lay  ford  and 
lend  a  hand  at  the  jib  down-haul,"  and  while  Guy  was 
looking  about  to  see  which  way  to  go,  the  officer  picked 


98  GUY  HARRIS. 

up  a  rope  and  brought  it  clown  across  his  shoulders  with 
a  sounding  whack.  It  might  have  fared  hard  with  Guy 
then  had  not  Flint,  who  happened  to  overhear  the 
order,  saved  hira  from  further  punishment  by  hurrying 
forward  and  executing  it  for  him. 

Port  was  reached  at  last,  and  we  can  imagine  how  re- 
lieved Guy  was  and  with  what  feelings  of  delight  he 
listened  to  the  speech  the  captain  made  to  the  crew,  in 
which  he  informed  them  that  the  vessel  was  so  badly 
damaged  that  she  must  go  into  the  dry-docks  again  and 
that  the  hands  were  to  be  discharged  with  three  months' 
pay.  He  packed  up  his  dunnage  with  great  alacrity, 
and  as  he  followed  Flint  over  the  side,  declared  that  he 
had  seen  enough  of  salt  water  to  last  him  as  long  as  he 
lived,  and  that  the  rest  of  his  life  should  be  on  shore. 

"Why,  you  haven't  seen  anything  of  a  sailor's  life 
yet,"  said  his  companion.  "  I  know  we've  had  rather  a 
rough  time  for  the  last  week,  but  that's  nothing.  Of 
course  one  must  work  if  he  goes  to  sea,  and  so  he  must 
if  he  follows  any  other  business.  You'll  see  better  times 
when  you  are  once  fairly  afloat." 

"•'  Bat  just  look  at  the  danger,"  said  Guy. 

"  Humjjh!  look  at  the  danger  you're  in  now  while  you 
are  ashore,"  returned  Flint.  "  Suppose,  while  we  are 
jDassing  along  this  row  of  buildings,  that  a  brick  should 
fall  from  one  of  the  chimneys  and  strike  you  on  the  head! 
Where  would  you  be?  Or  suppose  you  should  acci- 
dentally put  yourself  in  the  path  of  a  runaway  horse! 
Wouldn't  you  be  in  danger  then?  (The  safest  place  in 
the  world  is  on  shipboard.     That's  a  sailor's  doctrine." 

"But it  isn't  my  doctrine,"  said  Guy.  "  And  another 
thing.  I  don't  like  to  have  a  man  swear  at  me  and  say 
that  for  two  cents  he  would  throw  me  into  the  drink. 
If  I  aiii  to  be  cuffed  and  whipped  and  jawed  every  day 
I  might  as  well  be — somewhere." 

Guy  was  about  to  say  that  he  might  as  well  be  at 
home,  for  he  had  run  away  from  it  on  purpose  to  escape 
such  discipline.  He  came  very  near  exposing  himself, 
for  he  had  told  Flint  that  he  had  no  home,  and  he 


THE  BOARDI.VG-HOUSE.  99 

knew  that  was  the  reason  the  sailor  was  so  kind  to  him. 

''And  don't  you  remember  how  that  mate  beat  me 
with  a  rope?"  added  Guy.  "If  you  hadn't  taken  my 
part  he  might  have  been  pounding  me  yet,  for  I  didn't 
know  where  to  go  to  find  the  jib  down-haiih" 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,  "said  Flint  encouragingly.  "A 
boy  who  goes  to  sea  may  make  up  his  mind  to  one  thing, 
and  that  is,  he's  going  to  get  more  kicks  than  ha'pence. 
And  it  may  not  be  his  fault;  but  if  he  gets  'em  after  he 
learns  his  duties,  then  it  is  his  fault.  You  didn't  see 
me  struck  or  hear  anybody  say  he'd  throw  me  overboard. 
That's  'cause  I  know  my  business  and  'tend  to  it.  But 
you  will  see  better  times  after  we  get  fairly  afloat. 
Halloo  I  let's  go  in  here  and  see  what's  going  on." 

Flint's  attention  was  attracted  by  the  sound  of  voices 
and  shouts  of  laughter  which  issued  from  a  very  dingy- 
looking  building  they  were  at  that  moment  passing. 
Guy  glanced  up  at  the  sign  and  saw  that  it  was  a  sailor's 
boarding-house. 

Flint  opened  the  door  that  led  into  the  public  room, 
and  Guy  followed  him  in.  The  boy  did  not  like  the 
looks  of  the  ajjartment,  for  it  too  vividly  recalled  to 
his  mind  the  quarters  occupied  by  the  steerage  passen- 
gers on  board  the  Queen  of  the  Lakes.  It  was  not 
much  like  the  steerage  in  aj^pearance,  but  it  Avas  fully  as 
gloomy  and  uninviting. 

One  side  of  the  room  was  occupied  with  tables  and 
chairs,  and  the  other  by  a  small  bar,  at  which  cheap 
cigars  and  villainous  liquors  were  kept  for  sale.  The 
floor  was  covered  with  sawdust,  and  littered  with  cigar 
stumps  and  ''  old  soldiers,"  and  the  walls  were  discol- 
ored iDy  tobacco  smoke,  which  filled  the  room  almost  to 
suffocation. 

A  party  of  sailors  were  seated  at  one  of  the  tables,  en- 
gaged in  a  game  of  "sell  out,"  now  and  then  laying 
down  their  cards  for  a  few  seconds  to  bury  their  noses 
in  tumblers  of  hot  punch,  which  they  kept  stowed  away 
on  little  shelves  under  the  table.  They  looked  uj)  as 
Flint  and  his  companion  entered,  and  a  man  who  was 


100  GUY  HARRIS. 

standing  behind  the  bar,  and  who  seemed  to  be  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  house,  came  forward  to  relieve  them  of 
their  bundles,  and  inquired  what  he  could  do  for  them. 

"  Can  you  grub  and  lodge  us  'till  we  find  a  ship?" 
asked  Flint. 

"Of  course  I  can,"  said  the  proprietor.  "This  is 
the  very  place  to  come.  Supper  will  be  ready  in  an 
hour.  Will  you  sit  down  by  the  stove  and  have  a  drop 
of  something  warm?" 

"  I  don't  mind.  We've  had  a  rough  time  outside  for 
the  last  week,  and  hain't  got  warmed  up  yet." 

The  sailor  and  his  young  companion  drew  a  couple  of 
chairs  near  the  stove,  and  sat  down,  whereupon  a  short, 
thickset  man,  who,  seated  in  a  remote  corner  of  the 
room,  had  been  regarding  them  rather  sharply  ever 
since  they  came  in,  arose  and  pulled  his  chair  to  Flint's 
side. 

' '  Did  you  say  you  want  to  ship  ?"  he  asked  in  a  low 
tone,  at  the  same  time  casting  a  quick  glance  toward  the 
card  players. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  sailor,  running  his  eye  over  the 
man;  "but  we  hain't  in  no  hurry  about  it." 

"Well,  I  am  in  a  great  hurry  to  raise  a  crew,  and 
should  like  to  get  one  to-night.  I  am  second  mate  of 
the  clipper  Santa  Maria,  bound  for  Honolulu— forty 
dollars  advance.  Better  say  you'll  put  your  name  down. 
Best  ship  you  ever  sailed  in,  and  you'll  find  every  thing 
lovely  aboard  her.  The  cap'n's  a  gentleman.  Ask  him 
for  a  chaw  of  tobacco,  and  you'll  hav(3  to  mind  your  eye 
or  get  knocked  overboard  with  a  whole  plug  of  it,  and 
the  mates  ain't  noiie  of  your  loblolly  boys  neither. 
What  do  you  say?" 

"Say  no,  mate,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  card  players, 
all  of  whom  had  paused  in  their  game  to  hear  M'iiat  the 
mate  had  to  say  to  Flint.  '*  Don't  go  near  the  bloody 
hooker." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  her?"  asked  Flint. 

"  Why,  she's  got  a  crew  aboard  she  never  discharges, 
and  who  don't  sign  articles,"  answered  the  sailor. 


THE  BOARDING-HOUSE.  IQI 

•'  Then  I  guess  I  won't  sliip,"  said  Flinty  picking  up 
his  chair  and  moving  it  nearer  the  players. 

"  You'd  better  not.  She's  been  trying  for  three  days 
to  find  a  crew — the  cap'n,  both  tlie  mates,  and  all  the 
shipping  agents  in  port  have  been  running  about  the 
streets  looking  for  hands,  but  everybody  who  knows  her 
is  shy  of  her.  She  has  borne  a  hard  name  from  the  day 
she  was  launched." 

'''And  all  through  just  such  fellows  as  you  are!" 
cried  the  mate,  jumping  to  his  feet,  his  face  red  with 
anger.  ''Don't  I  wish  I  had  you  with  me  just  one 
more  voyage?  I'd  haze  you  until  you  Avere  ready  to 
jump  overboard." 

"But  you'll  never  have  me  with  you  another  voyage," 
said  the  sailor,  with  a  laugh.  "  One  cruise  in  the  Santa 
Maria  is  as  much  as  I  can  stand.  Ay,  you  had  better 
go!"  he  continued,  as  the  mate  buttoned  his  coat  and 
hurried  toward  the  door.  "  You're  no  good  here,  and 
you'll  never  raise  a  crew  until  you  call  on  the  sharks." 

"Look  out  that  I  don't  get  you  in  that  way,  my 
hearty,"  exclaimed  the  mate,  as  he  slammed  the  door 
behind  him. 

The  sailors  once  more  turned  to  their  cards,  and  Flint 
moved  back  beside  Guy.  At  this  moment  the  landlord 
came  up,  bringing  on  a  tray  two  glasses  filled  with  some 
steaming  liquor.  Flint  took  them  off  the  tray  and 
placed  them  on  the  floor  behind  the  stove. 

"AVhat  did  that  sailor  mean  when  he  said  that  the 
Santa  Maria  had  a  crew  who  don't  sign  articles?"  asked 
Guy  in  a  whisper. 

"  He  meant  ghosts,"  replied  Flint. 

"  Ghosts?"  repeated  Guy.     "  Humph!" 

"  Hold  on  there,  and  don't  say  '  humph '  till  you 
know  what  you're  talking  about,"  said  the  sailor 
sharply. 

"  Why,  Flint,  there  are  no  such  things.  You  surely 
don't  believe  in  them?" 

"I  surely  do,  though." 

"  You  have  never  seen  one." 


10$  GUY  HARRIS. 

"Avast  there!"  exclaimed  Flint. 

''Have  you,  really?     What  did  ic  look  like?" 

''They  take  different  sliapes.  I've  seen  them  that 
looked  like  rats,  and  I've  seen  'em  that  looked  like  black 
cats.  Sometimes  you  can't  see  'em  at  all,  and  them  kind 
is  the  worst,  for  they're  the  ones  that  talks.  Once,  when 
I  was  a  youngster,  a  little  older  than  you,  I  sailed  in  a 
ship  out  of  Boston.  One  night  it  blew  such  a  gale  that  it 
took  twenty-six  of  us  to  furl  the  mainsail,  and  we  were 
almost  an  hour  in  doing  it,  too.  We  lost  one  man  over- 
board while  we  were  about  it,  and  every  night  after  that 
when  the  order  was  given  to  lay  aloft  to  loose  or  furl  the 
sails,  we  were  certain  to  find  Dave  Curry  there  before  us 
working  like  a  trooper.  Oh,  it's  gospel,"  said  Flint 
earnestly,  seeing  that  an  expression  of  incredulity  settled 
on  the  face  of  his  young  companion;  "'cause  I  saw  him 
often  with  my  own  eyes,  and  what  I  tell  you  I  have  seen, 
you  may  put  down  as  the  truth.  Shortly  after  that  I 
sailed  in  a  brig  whose  bell  every  night  when  the  mid- 
watch  was  called  struck  four  times,  and  no  one  ever 
went  near  it." 

"Who  struck  it  then,  if  no  one  went  near  it?"  de- 
manded Guy,  not  yet  convinced. 

"  The  ghost  of  a  quartermaster,  and  a  man-o'-wars 
man  who  was  lost  overboard  when  the  brig  made  her  first 
cruise.  The  last  voyage  I  made  was  in  a  ship  bound 
around  the  Cape.  When  the  time  came  we  begun  to 
prepare  for  bad  weather  by  sending  down  the  royal  yards 
and  mast  and  getting  in  the  flying- jib  boom.  One  of 
the  hands  was  out  on  the  boom  and  had  just  sung  out, 
'haul  inl' wlien  a  sea  broke  over  the  bows  and  he  was 
never  seen  afterward.  But  every  night  we  used  to  hear 
him,  as  plain  as  I  can  hear  myself  s[)eaking  now,  calling 
out  as  if  he  were  tired  of  Avaiting,  '  haul  in  I'  We  kept  a 
good  lookout,  but  althougli  we  could  never  see  any  one, 
we  always  heard  the  voice.  What  are  you  looking  at 
them  glasses  so  steady  for?  You  don't  want  to  drink 
that  stuff,  do  you?" 

"  No;  I  drink  nothing  stronger  than  beer." 


THE  BOARDING-HOUSE.  103 

*' And  if  you  know  when  you  are  well  off  you  will  let 
that  alone/'  said  Flint  earnestly.  "It  never  does  no- 
body no  good.  It  takes  your  money  as  fast  as  you  can 
earn  it,  and  gets  you  into  scrapes.  I  know  by  experi- 
ence." 

"Why  don't  you  empty  one  of  the  glasses?"  asked 
Guy. 

"  Do  you  think  Fm  fool  enough  to  drink  anything  in 
this  house?"  inquired  Flint,  in  a  low  whisper.  "  Didn't 
you  hear  that  fellow  tell  the  mute  that  he'd  never  ship  a 
crew  till  he  got  the  sharks  to  help  him." 

"Yes,  but  I  don't  know  what  he  means." 

"You  never  saw  a  two-legged  shark,  did  you?" 

"No,  I  never  did." 

"Well,  there's  one,"  said  Flint,  jerking  his  thumb 
over  his  shoulder  toward  the  bar. 

"Who?     Where?     You  don't  mean  the  landlord?" 

"  Don't  I,  though?  I  don't  meau  nobody  else.  I  can 
tell  one  of  them  fellows  as  far  as  I  can  see  him.  He'll 
have  a  crew  for  the  Santa  Maria  before  many  hours,  now 
you  see  if  he  don't.  That's  Avhat  he's  up  to,  and  that's 
why  I  don't  drink  the  stuff  in  that  glass.  Them  fellows 
playing  cards  are  all  fools.  They'll  be  out  of  sight  of 
land  some  fine  morning,  now  you  see  if  they  don't — to- 
morrow may  be." 

Flint  settled  back  in  his  chair,  nursed  his  right  leg, 
and  winked  knowingly  at  Guy. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  the  boy.  "They  Avon't 
ship  aboard  the  Santa  Maria,  will  they?" 

"Yes,  they  will." 

"They  needn't  do  it  unless  they  choose." 

"Ah!  needn't  they  though?  That  shows  all  you 
know.  You  see  the  landlord  is  keeping  them  here  by 
dosing  'em  with  something  strong— a  sailor  is  always 
ready  to  stay  where  he  can  get  plenty  to  drink — and  by 
the  time  it  comes  dark  they'll  be  half-seas  over.  Then 
the  landlord  will  drug 'em  to  sleep  by  imtting  something 
in  their  drinks,  and  get  help  and  carry  them  aboard  the 
Santa  Maria.  By  the  time  they  get  their  senses  again 
they'll  be  miles  away." 


104  GUY  HARRIS 

"  But  tlie}^  can't  do  duty  if  tliey're  drugged/'  said 
Guy. 

"  No  matter.  If  tliey  can't  do  duty  to-day  they  can 
to-morrow,  and  the  cap'n  '11  take  'em  so  long  as  they  ain't 
dead." 

"  Let's  get  away  from  here  and  go  somewhere  else," 
said  Guy  in  great  alarm.  ''I  don't  want  to  stay  with 
such  a  man.     I'm  afraid  of  him." 

"  Well,  yon  needn't  be.  All  we've  got  to  do  is  to  keep 
clear  heads  on  our  shoulders,  and  we're  all  right.  Just 
bear  one  thing  in  mind.  As  long  as  you  stay  in  this 
house  don't  drink  nothing,  not  even  water." 

"  Supper  I"  cried  the  landlord  at  this  moment.  "  Walk 
right  into  the  dining-room,  boys.  Why,  what's  the 
matter,  mates?"  he  added,  glancing  from  Flint  and  his 
companion  to  the  untasted  glasses  on  the  floor;  ''don't 
they  suit  you?" 

"  No;  they're  too  stiff  and  got  too  much  sugar  in 
'em." 

"  Then  step  right  up  to  the  bar  and  let  me  mix  you 
another  glass.     It  sha'n't  cost  you  a  cent." 

''Never  mind  now,"  said  Flint.  "We'll  wait  until 
after  supper." 

Guy,  who  had  not  had  a  square  meal  for  a  week,  was 
delighted  to  find  himself  seated  at  a  well-filled  table 
once  more.  He  fell  to  work  in  good  earnest  and  made 
ample  amends  for  his  long  fast.  There  were  two  draw- 
backs to  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  meal,  and  one  was, 
he  could  not  drink  anything.  Forgetting  himself  on 
several  occasions  he  raised  his  cup  of  ^coffee  to  his  lips, 
but  being  checked  by  a  look  or  a  sly  nudge  from  Flint, 
always  put  it  down  untasted.  The  other  drawback  was 
the  company  in  which  he  found  himself. 

The  sailors  knew  little  of  the  etiquette  of  the  table, 
and  cared  less.  They  were  merry  and  quarrelsome  by 
turns,  pounded  on  the  table  with  their  fists  until  the 
dishes  jumped  up  and  performed  jigs  and  somersaults  in 
the  air,  and  talked,  laughed,  and  swore  at  the  top  of 
their  voices.     The  landlord  seemed  accustomed  to  all 


THE  BOARDING-HOUSE.  l05 

this,  and  never  interfered  with  his  guests  except  when 
it  was  necessary  to  keep  them  from  coming  to  a  free 
fight. 

The  sailors  left  the  table  one  after  the  other,  as  their 
appetites  were  satisfied,  and  returned  to  the  public  room, 
whither  they  were  followed  by  Flint  and  Guy,  the 
former  leading  the  way.  As  they  were  passing  along 
the  hall  that  led  to  the  bar-room,  the  sailor  suddenly 
paused,  looked  steadily  at  something  before  him  for  a 
moment,  and  then  drew  back. 

'^  It's  come,  and  sooner  than  I  tliought  for,"  said  he, 
in  an  excited  whisper, 

"What  has  come?"  asked  Guy. 

-'Stick  your  head  out  of  that  door  and  see  for  your- 
self.    Be  careful  to  keep  out  of  sight  of  the  landlord." 

Guy  advanced  cautiously  toward  the  door,  wondering 
what  it  could  be  that  had  so  excited  his  companion,  and 
Flint  followed  close  to  his  heels,  rolling  uj)  his  sleeves 
and  making  other  preparations  indicative  of  a  desire  or 
intention  to  fight  somebody. 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

li^"   THE    COURT-EOOM. 

UY  expected  to  s'^e  something  startling,  but 
was  disappointed.  The  public  room  was  as 
quiet  and  orderly  as  it  had  been  at  any  time 
since  he  entered  it.  The  sailors  had  re- 
sumed thea' game,  and  the  landlord  was  standing  behind 
the  bar  with  a  ro^v  of  glasses  ranged  on  a  slielf  before 
him,  into  each  of  which  he  was  putting  a  small  portion 
of  a  white  powder  that  he  took  from  a  paper  he  hold  in 
his  hand.  Then  he  filled  all  the  glasses  with  some  kind 
of  liquor,  stirred  them  with  a  spoon,  and  placing  them 
upon  a  tray  started  toward  the  table  at  which  the  sailors 
were  sitting.  "It  is  my  treat  now,  lads,"  said  he,  '^and 
here  is  something  to  make  your  suppers  set  easy." 

''Don't  touch  it,"  shouted  Flint,  suddenly  starting 
forward.  "Knock  him  down,  some  of  you.  That 
stuff  is  doctored. 

Guy  did  not  understand  just  what  Flint  meant  by 
this,  but  it  was  2)lain  that  the  sailors  did.  They  all 
jumped  to  their  feet  in  an  instant,  while  the  landlord 
put  down  the  tray  and  looked  at  Guy's  companion  with 
an  expression  on  his  face  that  was  perfectly  fiendish.  A 
moment  afterward  a  glass  propelled  by  his  hand  came 
sailing  through  the  air,  and  was  shivered  into  fragments 
against  the  wall  close  beside  Flint's  head. 

"I'll  be  at  you  in  a  second,"  said  the  latter,  as  he 
coolly  made  his  way  behind  the  bar.  "There's  the 
stuff  that's  in  your  glasses,  mates,"  he  added,  throwing 
upon  the  counter  the  paper  that  contained  the  remain- 
der of  the  drug.  "  If  there  is  a  'pothecary  among  you, 
may  be  he  can  tell  you  what  it  is — I  can't." 

The  sailors  had,  while  at  the  supper  table,  given 
abundant  evidence  that  they  were   in  just   the   right 


IN  THE  COUKT-ROOM.  107 

humor  for  a  row^  and  this  was  all  that  was  needed  to 
start  one  going.  As  Flint  came  out  from  behind  the 
counter  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  landlord  in  return 
for  the  glass  the  latter  had  thrown  at  his  head,  that 
worthy  retreated  toward  the  dining-room  shouting 
lustily  for  help.  It  came  almost  immediately  in  the 
shape  of  three  or  four  villainous-looking  fellows  who 
were  armed  with  bludgeons.  Their  sudden  appearance 
astonished  Guy.  He  had  seen  no  men  about  the  house, 
and  he  could  not  imagine  where  they  sprung  from  so 
quickly. 

''  There's  a  man  who  wants  to  raise  a  fight,''  cried  the 
landlord,  pointing  to  Flint.     "  Down  with  him." 

"■  Stand  by  me,  mates,"  said  Flint,  throwing  off  his 
hat,  and  pushing  back  his  sleeves,  "and  we  will  clean 
the  shanty." 

The  opposing  parties  came  together  without  a 
moment's  delay,  and  the  noise  and  confusion  that  fol- 
lowed almost  made  Guy  believe  that  pandemonium  had 
broken  loose.  Having  never  witnessed  such  a  scene  be- 
fore he  was  overcome  with  fear  and  bewilderment. 
Deprived  of  speech  and  the  power  of  action,  he  stood 
watching  the  struggling  men,  all  unconscious  of  the 
fact  that  he  Avas  every  moment  in  danger  of  being 
stricken  down  by  the  glasses  Avhich  whistled  past  his  ears 
like  bullets.  At  last  the  lights  were  extinguished,  and 
this  seemed  to  arouse  Guy  from  his  trance  of  terror. 
As  quick  as  a  flash  he  darted  into  the  dining-room,  and 
jerking  open  a  door  that  led  into  the  street,  soon  put  a 
safe  distance  between  himself  and  the  couibatants. 

"  Great  Scott!"  panted  Guy,  seating  himself  under  a 
gas-lamp  to  rest  after  his  rapid  run.  "^  I  didn't  bargain 
for  such  things  as  this.  I'd  rather  be  at  home  a  great 
sight.  Why,  a  man's  life  isn't  safe  among  such  people. 
I  am  tired  of  the  sea,  and  homesick  besides;  and  I  think 
the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  start  for  JSTorwall  while  I 
have  money  in  my  pocket." 

Had  Guy  acted  upon  this  sensible  conclusion,  he 
might  have  saved  himself  from  a  great  deal  of  misery 


108  GUY  HARRIS. 

that  was  yet  in  store  for  him.  While  he  was  thinking 
about  it — trying  to  picture  to  himself  the  commotion 
his  unexpected  return  would  create  in  his  father's  house, 
and  wondering  what  sort  of  a  reception  would  be  ex- 
tended to  him — he  heard  some  one  coming  rapidly 
down  the  sidewalk;  and  fearing  that  it  might  be  the 
landlord,  or  some  of  his  assistants,  who  were  searching 
for  him,  he  sprung  up  and  darted  down  a  cross  street 
that  led  to  the  dock.  He  was  running  directly  into 
more  trouble,  if  he  had  only  known  it — trouble  that  he 
was  not  to  see  the  end  of  for  months;  and  he  brought  it 
all  on  himself  by  so  simple  a  thing  as  going  to  the  dock. 

While  he  was  running  along  at  the  top  of  his  speed, 
intent  on  getting  out  of  hearing  of  the  footsteps  that 
seemed  to  be  pursuing  him,  he  suddenly  became  aware 
that  there  was  something  exciting  going  on  in  advance 
of  him.  He  stopped  to  listen,  and  the  blood  seemed  to 
curdle  in  his  veins  when  he  heard  the  sounds  of  a  fierce 
struggle  and  a  faint,  gasping  cry  for  help. 

He  looked  in  the  direction  from  which  the  sounds 
came,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  light  from  a  gas-lamp,  a 
short  distance  behind  him,  he  could  distinguish  the 
forms  of  three  men,  who,  clasped  in  a  close  embrace, 
were  swaying  back  and  forth,  and  so  near  the  edge  of 
the  wharf  that  a  single  misstep  on  the  part  of  one  of 
them  would  have  precipitated  them  all  into  the  water. 

"Another  free  fight,"  thought  Guy,  whose  first  im- 
pulse was  to  turn  and  take  to  his  heels.  "  These  sailors 
are  a  dreadful  set,  and  I'll  not  stay  among  them  a  day 
longer." 

"  Help!  help!"  shouted  one  of  the  men,  his  cry  being 
almost  instantly  choked  off  by  a  strong  grasp  on  his 
throat. 

"  Give  up  the  money,"  said  a  hoarse  voice,  '^'or  over 
you  go." 

A  light  suddenly  dawned  upon  Guy's  mind;  he  begun 
to  understand  the  matter  noAV. 

Two  rutfians  had  set  upon  somebody  with  the  inten- 
tion of  robbing  him  and  throwing  him  into  the  harbor. 


IN  THE  COURT-ROOM.  109 

and  he  was  fighting  hard  for  his  life  and  property.  In- 
stantly Guy's  tongue  was  loosed,  and  he  begun  shouting 
at  the  top  of  his  voice: 

"Police!  police!"  he  yelled.    "Fire!  murder!  help!" 

*' There,  we're  discovered,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  rob- 
bers.    "Let's  throw  him  over  and  run." 

Guy's  frantic  appeal  met  with  a  prompt  and  most  en- 
couraging response — the  rattle  of  a  policeman's  club  on 
the  pavement.  It  was  given  probably  as  a  warning  to 
the  robbers  that  there  was  somebody  coming,  and  they 
had  better  be  making  otf  if  they  wished  to  avoid  arrest. 
They  acted  upon  the  friendly  hint  by  releasing  their 
prisoner  and  trying  to  run  away;  but  he,  being  strong 
and  determined,  seized  them  both  with  the  intention  of 
preventing  their  escajDC,  at  the  same  time  awakening  a 
thousand  echoes  among  the  deserted  warehouses  by  his 
lusty  cries  for  help,  in  which  he  was  ably  seconded  by 
Guy.  The  robbers  finally  succeeded  in  throwing  oif 
their  victim's  grasp,  aiid  one  of  them  ran  down  the 
dock,  while  the  other  dodged  into  a  door-Avay  just  as  a 
policeman  made  his  appearance  around  the  corner. 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  demanded  the  officer  with 
becoming  dignity  and  imperiousness.  "  Is  this  you,  Mr. 
Hey  ward?"  he  added,  peering  sharply  into  the  face  of 
the  rescued  man.     "  What's  all  this  row  about?" 

"  Two  men  were  trying  to  rob  me,"  replied  Mr.  Hey- 
ward,  feeling  in  his  pockets  to  satisfy  himself  that  his 
purse  and  watch  were  safe. 

"Well,  where  are  they  now?  Why  didn't  you  hang 
onto  them  till  I  came?" 

"I  couldn't.    They  broke  away  from  me  and  ran  off." 

"And  one  went  that  way  and  the  other  in  there," 
said  Guy,  pointing  Avith  his  right  hand  down  the  dock, 
and  with  his  left  toward  the  door-way  into  which  one  of 
the  highwaymen  had  fled  for  concealment.  "  I  saw 
them  both." 

The  guardian  of  the  night  darted  into  the  door-way, 
closely  followed  by  Mr.  Hey  ward,  and  presently  Guy 
heard  the  soands  of  a  desperate  fight  going  on  in  the 


110  GUY  HARRIS. 

dark.  But  it  was  over  in  a  few  seconds,  and  the  police- 
man and  his  assistant  reappeared,  draggiug  the  robber 
betAveen  them. 

"  That's  the  man/'  said  Guy.  "  I  know  him  by  his 
fur  cap." 

^'  Will  you  swear  to  him?"  asked  Mr.  Heyward.  ''I 
think  I  recognize  him;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  and  his 
comrade  assaulted  me  so  unexpectedly,  and  kept  me  so 
busy,  that  I  didn't  have  a  chance  to  take  a  good  look  at 
either  of  them." 

"  Of  course  I'll  swear  to  him,"  replied  Gruy.  ''  I  would 
know  him  anywhere." 

''All  right.  I  shall  want  you  for  a  witness  to-mor- 
row.    What  is  your  name  and  where  do  you  live?" 

"  I  don't  live  anywhere.  I'm  a  sailor,"  said  Guy,  who 
did  not  think  it  best  to  answer  the  first  j)art  of  the  ques- 
tion. 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  take  you  with  me,"  said  the 
policeman.     "  Come  on." 

"  Where  must  I  go?" 

**  Why,  to  the  station,  of  course." 

*'  To  the  watch-house!"  exclaimed  Guy,  greatly  amazed. 
*'0h,  now,  what  must  I  go  there  for?  I  haven't  been 
doing  anything." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Heyward.  "No  one  accuses 
you.  But  I  intend  to  prosecute  this  ruffian  to  the  full 
extent  of  the  law,  and  you  will  be  the  principal  witness 
against  him— in  fact,  the  only  one  whose  evidence  will 
amount  to  anything.  In  order  to  convict  him  I  must 
have  some  one  to  swear  positively  that  he  is  the  man 
who  attempted  to  rob  me.  I  can't  do  it,  and  neither 
can  the  policeman." 

"  Come  on,  and  don't  waste  any  more  words  over  it," 
commanded  the  officer. 

Guy,  whose  courage  had  been  completely  frightened 
out  of  him  by  the  scenes  of  violence  he  had  witnessed, 
timidly  obeyed.  He  fell  in  behind  the  officer  and  Mr. 
Heyward,  who  led  the  robber  toward  the  police  head- 
quarters. 


IN  THE  COURT-ROOM.  HI 

Guy  had  read  in  the  papers  that  lodgings  were  some- 
times furnished  at  watch-houses,  and  that  night  he 
learned  what  it  meant.  He  found  that  those  who  were 
accommodated  with  quarters  at  the  expense  of  the  city 
were  not  provided  with  comfortable  beds  and  private 
apartments,  as  they  would  have  been  had  they  put  up  at 
a  first-class  hotel.  He  was  thrust  into  a  room  with  a 
lot  of  homeless  wanderers,  and  lay  all  night  on  the  hard 
floor,  with  no  covering,  and  nothing  but  his  tarpaulin 
to  serve  as  a  pillow.  How  homesick  he  was,  and  how 
heartily  he  wished  himself  under  his  father's  roof  once 
more! 

Very  frequently,  as  he  rolled  about,  trying  to  find  a 
plank  soft  enough  to  sleep  upon,  he  would  raise  himself 
upon  his  elbow,  look  around  at  the  ragged,  slumbering 
men  by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  and  think  of  the 
neat  little  bedroom  and  soft,  warm  couch  to  which  he 
had  been  accustomed  at  home.  While  brooding  over 
his  boyish  troubles  and  trials  he  had  rever  thought  of 
the  comforts  and  privileges  that  fell  to  his  lot,  but  he 
thought  of  them  now,  when  it  was  too  late  to  enjoy 
them. 

He  passed  a  most  miserable  night,  and  was  glad  indeed 
when  day  began  to  dawn  and  the  lodgers  to  disperse; 
but  he  M'as  not  allowed  to  leave  the  station,  not  even 
long  enough  to  get  his  breakfast.  He  Avas  kej^t  under 
lock  and  key  until  ten  o'clock,  when  Mr.  Hey  ward's  case 
came  up  for  trial.  When  he  was  conducted  into  the 
court-room,  which  was  packed  with  loungers  and  em- 
bryo lawyers,  as  justices'  courts  almost  always  are,  he 
felt  and  looked  more  like  a  criminal  than  the  hardened 
wretch  who  sat  in  the  dock.  He  had  never  been  in  a 
court-room  before,  and  he  knew  so  little  of  the  manner 
in  which  proceedings  are  conducted  there  that  he  was 
shown  the  witness-stand  three  different  times  before  he 
could  be  made  to  comprehend  that  he  was  expected  to 
occupy  it. 

^'You  seem  to  be  very  dull,  young  man,"  said  the 
justice  sharply.     "  What  is  your  name?" 


113  GUY  HARRIS. 

The  tone  of  A^oice  in  Avliich  the  question  was  joro- 
ponnded,  accompanied  as  it  was  by  a  fierce  frown  on  the 
judicial  face,  was  enough  to  frighten  away  what  few  wits 
Guy  had  left  about  him.  He  did  not  know  what  reply 
to  make.  If  he  gave  his  own  name  it  might  go  into  the 
papers  and  be  seen  by  everybody  who  knew  him,  and  if 
he  gave  a  fictitious  one,  the  judge  might  find  it  out  in 
some  way  and  punish  him. 

"  Witness,  did  you  hear  my  question?"  demanded  the 
justice.     "■  What  is  your  name?" 

"  Guy  Harris,"  answered  the  boy. 

"Well,  why  couldn't  you  have  said  so  at  once  and  not 
kept  me  waiting  so  long?     Swear  him." 

A  red-faced  gentleman,  with  a  long  nose  and  ruffled 
shirt,  arose  and  mumbled  a  few  words  which  Guy  did 
not  understand,  and  when  he  sat  down,  another,  who 
proved  to  be  a  lawyer,  took  him  in  hand  and  went  at 
him  in  a  way  that  completed  his  discomfiture.  He  re- 
minded Guy  that  he  was  on  his  oath,  informed  him  that 
he  should  expect  the  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth 
from  him,  and  ended  his  exordium  by  asking  him  where 
he  lived — another  question  that  Guy  did  not  care  to 
answer. 

And  it  was  so  all  through  the  examination.  The  law- 
yer insisted  upon  knowing  all  about  matters  that  Guy 
wanted  to  keep  to  himself,  and  the  consequence  was  that 
in  less  than  five  minutes  he  was  completely  wound  up, 
and  stammered,  hesitated  and  blushed  in  a  way  that 
made  everybody  believe  that  he  was  not  telling  the  truth. 
At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  he  was  told  that  he  might 
step  down,  and  he  was  very  glad  to  do  it,  for  he  was 
perspiring  as  if  he  had  been  engaged  in  some  severe 
manual  labor,  trembling  in  every  limb  and  so  weak  that 
he  could  scarcely  remain  upon  his  feet.  He  had  seen 
quite  enough  of  a  court-room,  and  anxious  to  get  out  of 
it  as  soon  as  possible,  began  elbowing  his  way  through 
the  crowd  toward  Mr.  Heyward,  who  was  seated  beside 
his  lawyer. 

I  know  I  might  make  this  part  of  my  story  more 


IN  THE  COURT-ROOM.  113 

interesting  by  saying  that  ]V[r.  Hey  ward,  wlio  beyond  all 
doubt  owed  his  rescue  entirely  to  Guy,  was  a  rich  mer- 
chant; that  to  show  his  gratitude  to  his  preserver  he 
took  him  home  with  him  and  dressed  him  like  a  gentle- 
man; that  he  gave  him  a  situation  in  his  store,  and  that 
Guy  was  so  smart  and  quick  to  learn  that  he  became  a 
full  partner  in  two  years  and  married  the  merchant's 
beautiful  and  only  daughter,  and  that  the  merchant 
finally  died  and  left  him  heir  to  two  inillions  of  dollars. 
That  would  be  a  grand  way  to  wind  up  the  career  of  our 
hero,  but  unfortunatel}'#ie  is  a  bad  boy,  and  it  is  only 
the  good  ones  whose  lines  fall  in  such  pleasant  places. 

Guy  had  a  very  different  future  before  him.  Mr.  Hey- 
ward  did  not  even  thank  him  for  the  service  he  had 
rendered,  and  Guy  did  not  expect  it.  All  he  cared  for 
was  to  get  out  of  the  court-room  and  that  as  quickly  as 
possible. 

"■  Are  they  through  with  me  now?"  he  asked,  when  he 
reached  Mr.  Heyward's  side. 

''Yes,  for  the  present,"  was  the  answer. 

That  was  enough  for  Guy,  who  began  crowding  his 
way  toward  the  door,  j^aying  little  heed  to  the  growling 
of  those  Avhose  toes  he  trod  upon  or  whose  sides  he 
jammed  with  his  elbows.  He  breathed  easier  Avhen  he 
reached  the  street,  and  hurried  away  looking  for  a  res- 
taurant where  he  might  find  something  to  satisfy  his 
appetite,  for  it  was  now  twelve  o'clock  and  he  had  had 
no  breakfast. 

"  Thank  goodness,  I  am  out  (  i;  there  at  last!"  said  he, 
wiping  his  dripping  forehead,  "and  I'll  never  go  near 
a  place  like  it  again  if  I  can  help  it.  If  I  see  a  fight 
going  on,  I'll  run  away  and  not  stop  to  learn  who  comes 
out  first  best.  How  savagely  that  prisoner  looked  at 
me  while  I  was  giving  my  evidence!  There  was  an  ex- 
pression in  his  eye  which  said,  as  plainly  as  words,  '  I'll 
pay  you  for  that  some  day,  my  boy!'  I  wonder  what 
they  are  going  to  do  with  him  anyhow?" 

To  explain  what  happened  afterward  it  is  necessary  to 
answer  this  question.     The  prisoner  was  convicted  on 


114  GUY  HARRIS. 

Guy's  evidence  and  held  to  bail  to  answer  to  a  liiglier 
coui't  for  an  assault  with  intent  to  commit  robbery. 
Bail  was  speedily  found  by  his  friends,  and  the  man  was 
at  liberty  to  go  where  he  j^ieased  until  the  following 
month,  when  his  case  would  come  np  for  trial. 

As  soon  as  this  decision  was  rendered,  Mr.  Hey  ward, 
who  was  resolved  that  the  robber  should  not  escape 
punishment,  began  looking  about  for  his  witness,  in- 
tending to  have  him  locked  up  until  the  day  of  trial. 
But  the  boy  was  not  to  be  found  about  the  court-room, 
and  a  policeman  was  sent  out  to  hunt  him  up. 

The  runaway  little  dreamed  that  he  had  a  prospect 
before  him  of  being  shut  np  in  jail  for  a  whole  month. 

Guy  found  an  eating-house  at  last,  and  entering, 
stood  at  the  counter  while  he  drank  a  cup  of  muddy 
coffee,  ate  a  cold  boiled  egg  and  a  ham  sandwich,  and 
thought  over  his  prospects — or  rather  his  want  of  them. 
He  was  alone  in  the  world  once  more,  for  Flint,  his  only 
friend,  was  gone.  ■  He  had  not  seen  him  since  the  light 
at  the  boarding-house.  Guy  was  afraid  to  go  back  there 
after  him,  or  to  get  his  luggage,  and  more  than  that,  he 
was  not  certain  that  he  could  find  his  way  there,  even  if 
he  wanted  to  go.  Of  one  thing  he  was  satisfied,  and 
that  was,  that  if  Flint  was  still  alive  and  at  liberty,  the 
place  to  look  for  him  was  on  the  dock  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  shipping.  Thither  Guy  accordingly  bent 
his  steps  as  soon  as  he  had  finished  his  breakfast. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"JOHN    THOMAS,    A.    B." 

IIEN"  he  found  his  friend  Flint,  Guy  did  not 

know   just    wliat    he    would   do.     Probably 

he  intended  to  be  governed  entirely  by  his 

advice,  for  he  had  already  thought  better  of 

his  resolution  to  return  at  once  to  Norwall. 

It  is  true  that  he  had  seen  the  rough  side  of  the  world 
so  far  during  his  wanderings,  but  he  believed  that  it  had 
better  things  in  store  for  him.  At  any  rate  he  would 
find  Flint  and  ask  him  if  it  hadn't.  The  sailor  was  so 
jolly  and  hopeful,  and  spoke  so  encouragingly  whenever 
Guy  told  him  of  his  troubles,  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  be 
in  his  company. 

Guy  spent  an  hour  in  unavailing  search  for  his  friend, 
but  he  discovered  the  Ossi^Dee,  which  was  discharging 
her  cargo  preparatory  to  going  into  the  dry  docks,  and 
by  taking  her  as  a  point  of  departure  succeeded  at  last 
in  finding  the  boarding-house  at  which  he  had  eaten 
supper  the  night  before. 

He  approached  it  with  the  utmost  caution,  momen- 
tarily expecting  to  come  suddenly  upon  some  signs  of  the 
terrible  fracas  that  had  taken  place  there  a  few  hours 
ago,  such  as  broken  skulls,  dissevered  limbs,  and  lifeless 
bodies;  but  nothing  of  the  kind  was  to  b«  seen.  The 
place  was  as  quiet  as  the  station-house  he  had  just  left, 
and  Guy  had  half  a  mind  to  go  in  and  ask  for  Flint,  but 
hesitated  when  he  thought  of  the  landlord,  with  his 
fierce  mustache  and  closely-cropped  head.  He  did  not 
want  to  see  the  landlord  again,  or  that  worthy  might  de- 
mand to  know  what  he  meant  by  running  out  of  his 
house  in  that  unceremonious  manner  and  leaving  his 
supper  bill  unpaid. 

While  Guy  was  wondering  how  he  could  answer  such 


116  GUY  BARIUM. 

a  question  without  wounding  the  lancnortrs  feelings,  a 
hail  came  to  him  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 

''Halloo  there!  Hold  on  a  niinutel'' exclaimed  a  voice. 

Guy  looked  np  and  saw  a  stranger  coming  toward  him. 
He  was  dressed  in  broadcloth,  wore  a  shining  plug  hat 
on  his  head,  and  well-blacked  boots  on  his  feet;  rings 
sparkled  on  his  fingers,  something  that  looked  like  a 
diamond  glittei'ed  in  his  shirt  bosom,  and  a  heavy  gold 
watch-chain  dangled  across  his  crimson  waistcoat. 
Taken  altogether  he  reminded  Guy  of  the  steward  of 
the  Queen  of  the  Lakes,  He  approached  with  some 
eagerness  in  his  manner,  and  as  he  came  up  thrust  out 
his  hand  and  greeted  the  boy  with: 

"Why,  Jenkins,  how  are  you?  Glad  to  see  you; 
when  did  you  come  in?  Just  been  down  to  your  ship 
looking  for  you.     How  are  you,  I  say?" 

The  stranger  smiled  so  good-naturedly,  shook  his 
hand  so  warmly,  and  appeared  so  delighted  to  see  him, 
that  Guy  was  rather  taken  aback.  As  soon  as  he  could 
speak,  he  replied: 

"I  came  in  night  before  last  in  the  schooner  Ossipee 
from  Chicago;  but  my  name  isn't  Jenkins." 

The  stranger  started,  and  looked  at  Guy  a  moment 
with  an  expression  of  great  surprise  on  his  face. 

"  AVell,  I  declare,  I  have  made  a  mistake — that's  a 
fact!"  said  he.  "But  you  look  enough  like  Jenkins  to 
be  his  brother.  You  see,  he's  a  particular  friend  of 
mine,  and  I  am  always  on  the  lookout  to  do  him  a 
neighborly  turn.  I  wonder  if  you  are  as  good  a  sailor  as 
he  is." 

"  I  am  a  sailor,"  replied  Guy. 

"  Of  course  you  are.  I  can  tell  that  by  the  cut  of  your 
jib." 

These  words  went  straight  to  Guy's  heart,  and  vastly 
iiicreased  his  importance  in  his  own  eyes.  He  straight- 
ened ujD,  thrust  his  hands  deej)  into  his  pockets,  and 
took  a  few  stejDS  up  and  down  the  sidewalk,  rolling  from 
side  to  side  as  he  had  seen  Flint  do. 

"Think  I  don't  know  a  sailor  man  Avhen  I  see  him!" 


''JOHN  THOMAS,  A.  B."  117 

exclaimed  the  stranger.  "  "Why,  I  have  been  one  myself. 
Take  something  warm  this  frosty  morning?'' 

"  No,  sir,"  emphatically  replied  the  boy,  who  had 
already  seen  enough  of  the  evils  of  strong  drink.  "  You 
don't  get  anything  warm  down  me."' 

"Good  resolution!"  cried  the  man,  giving  Guy's  hand 
another  cordial  shake,  and  slapping  him  familiarly  on 
the  back.  "  Stick  to  it.  Do  you  know  that  that  is  one 
of  the  things  that  keeps  you  sailor  men  before  the  mast 
all  your  lives?  It  is  the  sober,  intelligent  ones,  just  such 
fellows  as  I  see  you  are,  who  get  to  be  mates  and  cap- 
tains. Now,  I  can  put  you  on  a  vessel  where  you  will  be 
pushed  ahead  as  fast  as  you  can  stand  it.  You  want  a 
berth,  don't  you  ?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  replied  Guy.  "I  want  to  find  my 
mate;  and  if  I  don't  succeed,  I  am  going  home." 

"  Your  mate!" exclaimed  the  stranger.  "  Oh,  I  know 
him — know  him  well.     It's  Jack  a — Jack  a " 

"No,  it  isn't  Jack;  it's  Dick  Flint." 

"Why,  so  it  is.  How  stupid  in  me  to  forget  his 
name!  I  saw  him  vv^ith  you  yesterday,  come  to  think. 
Let  me  see,"  added  the  stranger,  placing  his  finger  on 
his  forehead  and  looking  down  at  the  ground  in  a  brown 
study;  "  didn't  I  ship  him  last  night  on  board  the  Santa 
Maria?     Of  course  1  did." 

"Of  course  you  didn't.  He  don't  ship  on  no  such 
vessel,  and  neither  do  I.  She's  got  a  crew  aboard  of  her 
who  don't  sign  articles,"  said  Guy  glibly,  making  use  of 
some  expressions  he  had  heard  at  the  boarding-house. 
"I  don't  want  to  ship  with  ghosts.  I  have  seen  too 
many  of  them  in  my  time." 

"Have  you,  though?"  said  the  stranger.  "I  knew 
you  wTre  an  old  salt  as  soon  as  I  put  my  eyes  on  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Guy,  pushing  his  tarpaulin  on  one  side  of 
his  head,  thrusting  his  hands  deej^er  into  his  pockets, 
and  making  a  motion  with  his  tongue  as  if  he  were  turn- 
ing a  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  mouth.  "The  last  voyage 
I  made  was  in  a  shi23  bound  around  the  Cape.  When 
the  time  came  we  began  to  get  ready  for  bad  weather  by 


118  GUY  HARRIS. 

sending  down  the  royal-yards  and  masts,  and  taking  in 
the  flying  jib-boom.  One  of  the  hands — my  chum  he 
was,  too,  and  the  best  fellow  and  finest  sailor  that  ever 
chewed  biscuit^was  out  on  the  boom,  and  had  just  sung 
out  'haul  in!'  when  a  big  sea  broke  over  the  vessel,  and 
that  was  the  last  we  ever  saw  of  him — that  is,  alive. 
But  every  night  after  that  when  the  mid-watch  was 
called,  and  the  order  was  given  to  haul  in  the  flying  jib- 
boom,  we  Avere  sure  to  find  that  fellow  out  there  before 
us,  working  like  a  trooper.  Ko,  sir;  1  don't  ship  in  any 
more  vessels  that  carry  ghosts,  if  I  know  it." 

Guy  pushed  his  hat  further  on  the  side  of  his  head, 
turned  his  back  partly  to  the  stranger  and  looked  as  wise 
as  possible,  thinking  no  doubt  tha^  he  had  made  an  im- 
pression on  his  auditor.  He  did  not  know  that  he  had 
got  his  narrative  somewhat  mixed  up,  but  that  the 
stranger  did  was  evident.  There  was  a  roguish  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  and  he  was  obliged  to  bite  his  lips  to  keep 
from  laughing  outright.  Controlling  himself  Avith  an 
effort  he  leaned  toward  Cluy  and  said,  in  a  Ioav,  con- 
fidential tone: 

"  I  don't  blame  you.  The  Santa  Maria  does  bear  a 
hard  name,  that's  a  fact,  and  I  Avouldn't  sail  in  her  my- 
self. I've  got  another  vessel  on  my  books — the  clipper 
Morning  Light,  bound  uj)  the  Mediterranean,  and  I 
know  that's  the  very  place  you  Avant  to  go.  Isn't  it 
noAV,  say?"  he  exclaimed,  hitting  the  boy  a  back-handed 
slap  on  the  chest. 

"Yes,"  ansAvered  Guy.     "  I  should  like  to  go." 

"  Of  course  you  Avould.  Everybody  Avants  to  go,  but 
only  a  fcAV  can  get  the  chance.  I  tell  you  it  takes  in- 
fluence to  get  a  berth  on  board  a  Mediterranean  trader," 
said  the  man,  Avho  knew  that  he  could  imjjose  upon 
Guy  to  his  heart's  content.  "  Wealthy  country  that, 
and  if  you  don't  come  back  rich,  it  Avill  be  your  OAvn 
fault.  Ostrich  feathers  are  plenty  and  Avorth  a  hundred 
dollars  a  pound  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Diamonds, 
pearls,  nuggets,  and  gold-dust  are  to  be  had  for  the  pick- 
ing up.     Everybody  fills  his  pockets,  from  the  captain 


''JOHN  THOMAS,  A.  B.'  119 

down  to  Jemmy  Ducks.  Come  and  put  down  your 
name.     Where's  your  dunnage?" 

"  Hold  on,''  said  Guy,  as  the  stranger  seized  his  arm 
and  tried  to  pull  him  away.  "  I  Avant  to  find  Flint,  and 
see  what  he  has  to  say  about  it.'' 

"I  know  where  he  is,  and  can  find  him  for  you  in 
less  than  ten  minutes,"  said  the  stranger,  who  had 
about  as  clear  an  idea  of  Flint's  whereabouts  as  Guy 
himself.  "  All  I  ask  of  you  is  to  j)ut  down  your  name. 
Where's  your  dunnage?" 

''I  left  it  in  there  last  night,"  said  Guy,  pointing  to- 
ward the  boarding-house. 

"Why,  the  landlord  didn't  ship  you,  did  he?  That 
is,  he  didn't  find  a  vessel  for  you?" 

"1^0,  I  didn't  give  him  a  chance.  They  had  a  fight 
in  there,  and  I  ran  away." 

"  A  fight.  Oh,  that's  nothing.  It's  all  settled  now, 
I'll  warrant.  Come  with  me.  I'll  get  your  dunnage  for 
you." 

Guy  did  not  hesitate  to  enter  the  boarding-house 
under  the  protection  of  the  stranger,  and  indeed  he 
need  not  have  been  afraid  to  go  in  there  alone. 

There  was  but  one  man  in  the  bar-room,  and  that 
was  the  second  mate  of  the  Santa  Maria,  who  was  prob- 
ably on  the  lookout  for  a  crew  for  his  vessel. 

"  Morning,  Eupert,"  said  the  stranger,  as  he  and 
Guy  entered;  "I  believe  my  young  friend  here  left 
something  with  you  last  night." 

"'Ah,  yes;  here  it  is,"  replied  the  landlord,  handing 
Guy's  bundle  over  the  counter  and  smiling  joleasantly 
upon  the  boy,  "  What  made  3'ou  dig  out  in  such  a 
hurry?     Did  the  fellows  scare  you?" 

"  Yes,  they  did,"  replied  Guy. 

"You  need  not  have  been  alarmed.  You  were  my 
guest,  and  of  coiirse  I  should  have  protected  you.  You 
see,  Smith,"  added  the  landlord,  turning  to  the  shipping 
agent,  "the  boys  had  a  bit  of  a  blow-out  here  last 
night,  and  one  or  two  of  them  came  to  a  clinch.  It  was 
ull   over   in  a  minute,  and  we  took  a  few   drinks   all 


120  GUY  HARRIS. 

around  and  made  it  np.  It  didn't  amount  to  any- 
thing." 

"I  think  it  amounted  to  a  good  deal/'  said  Guy, 
looking  around  at  the  walls  where  the  plastering  had 
been  knocked  off  by  the  flying  glasses.  "  It  frightened 
me,  I  tell  you.     Where  is  Flint  now?" 

"^  Flint  ?"  repeated  the  landlord  interrogatively.  "  Do 
you  mean  the  man  who  came  here  with  you.  "  Oh, 
he's  up-stairs  with  the  rest,  sleeping  it  off." 

"^  I'd  like  to  see  him,"  said  Guy. 

''  Of  course  you  can,  if  you  wish,  but  I  wouldn't 
trouble  him  if  I  were  you.  Let  him  sleep.  He'll  be 
down  to  supper,  and  then  you  can  talk  to  him." 

''By  the  way,"  said  Smith  suddenly,  '"'Flint  has 
shipped  aboard  the  Morning  Light,  hasn't  he?" 

Smith  looked  steadily  at  the  landlord  as  he  said  this, 
and  the  landlord  looked  steadily  at  Smith.  The  two 
worthies  evidently  understood  one  another. 

'•'  Yes,"  was  the  landlord's  reply.  "  He's  signed  ar- 
ticles, and  got  his  advance  fair  and  square." 

"  There,  now,"  said  the  shipping  agent,  turning  to 
Guy;  "are  you  satisfied?  Your  mate  has  shipped 
aboard  my  vessel,  and  if  you  will  come  with  me  I  will 
ship  you.  You'll  see  splendid  times  up  the  Mediterra- 
nean," he  added,  with  a  sly  wink  at  the  landlord. 

"  Finest  country  in  the  world,"  observed  that  gentle- 
man. 

"  Such  chances  to  make  money,"  suggested  the  agent. 

"  Never  saw  the  beat,"  said  the  landlord.  "  Been  up 
there  myself,  and  that's  the  way  I  go't  my  start  in  the 
world.  Went  out  cabin-boy,  and  came  back  sailing  my 
own  vessel." 

"  Do  you  hear  that?"  exclaimed  the  agent,  triumph- 
antly. "  Didn't  I  tell  you  so?  Come  with  me,  and  I'll 
put  you  in  the  way  to  make  a  man  of  yourself." 

Before  Guy  could  reply  the  agent  assisted  him  to 
shoulder  his  bundle,  and  gently  forcing  him  into  the 
street,  locked  arms  with  him  and  led  him  away,  talking 
rapidly  all  the  while,  and  giving  the  boy  no  chance  to 


''JOHN  THOMAS,  A.  B."  121 

put  in  a  word.  In  a  few  minutes  more  he  found  him- 
self seated  in  a  small,  dark  room,  which  the  agent  called 
his  office;  and  the  latter,  having  placed  before  him  on 
the  table  a  large  sheet  of  ruled  paper,  which  contained 
several  names — taking  care,  however,  to  kee|)  his  hands 
spread  oijt  over  the  to|)  of  it — nodded  his  head  toAvard  a 
pen  that  was  sticking  in  an  inkstand  close  by,  and  told 
Guy  to  put  down  his  name. 

As  the  boy  was  about  to  comply  it  occurred  to  him 
that  it  might  be  a  good  plan  to  find  out  what  sort  of  a 
paper  it  was  that  he  was  expected  to  sign.  But  just  as 
he  was  on  thei^oint  of  asking  some  questions  concerning 
it,  he  w'as  checked  by  the  thought  that  by  such  a  pro- 
ceeding he  would  show  his  ignorance,  and  beside,  it 
would  look  too  much  as  though  he  doubted  his  gentle- 
manly friend,  the  shijjping  agent.  So  he  said  nothing, 
signed  a  name  to  the  paper,  and  was  held  for  a  voyage 
to — well,  it  was  to  some  i)lace  a  long  way  from  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean. 

"John  Thomas;  that's  all  right.  You  are  a  good 
penman,  and  ought  to  be  something  better  than  a  fore- 
mast hand.  AVhen  your  ship  comes  back  to  this  port, 
if  you  don't  tell  me  that  you  have  made  yourself  rich  by 
the  voyage,  and  that  you  are  at  least  a  second  mate,  I 
shall  be  ashamed  of  you.  Now,  then,'^  said  the  agent, 
laying  his  pocket-book  on  the  table  and  taking  the  pen 
from  the  boy's  hand,  "what  shall  I  put  after  your  name 

—A.  B.  r 

"What's  that?"  asked  Guy. 

'^  Why,  you're  an  able  seaman,  are  you  not!" 

"No — that  is,  yes;  of  course  I  am.  But  I  want  to  go 
as  cabin-boy.     I  like  that  better.'^ 

"  I  can't  ship  you  as  cabin-boy  ;  got  one  already. 
You  will  get  more  money  by  going  before  the  mast,  and 
you  want  to  make  all  you  can,  don't  you?  I'll  fix  it  for 
you." 

The  agent  dipped  his  pen  into  the  ink  and  wrote  A. 
B.  after  the  name  Guy  had  signed,  and  Guy,  ignoramus 
that  he  was,  never  tried  to  prevent  him.     If  he  could 


122  GUY  HARRIS. 

make  more  money  by  going  as  an  al)le  seaman  of  course 
it  was  to  his  advantage  to  do  it.  That  was  the  way  lie 
looked  at  the  matter  then,  but  before  many  hours  had 
passed  over  his  head  he  took  a  different  view  of  it.  He 
learned  through  much  tribulation  that  honesty  is  the 
best  policy  one  can  pursue,  even  though  he  be  a  sea- 
faring man. 

The  agent  having  prevailed  ujDon  Guy  to  sign  articles, 
seemed  on  a  sudden  to  lose  all  interest  in  him.  It  is 
true  that  after  he  paid  him  his  advance  he  accompanied 
him  to  a  store  and  assisted  him  in  making  some  neces- 
sary additions  to  his  outfit,  but  he  hurried  through  the 
business,  his  every  action  indicating  that  he  was  im- 
patient to  be  rid  of  Guy.  When  all  the  purchases  had 
been  made  he  took  a  hasty  leave  of  the  boy  and  told  him 
to  go  to  Eupert's  boarding-house  and  stay  there,  hold- 
ing himself  in  readiness  to  go  aboard  his  vessel  at  six 
o'clock  that  night.  If  he  was  not  on  hand  when  he  was 
wanted,  he  Avould  find  the  police  after  him. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

S  TI  I  P  P  I  X  G       A      C  R  E  AV  . 

UMPH  I"'  said  Guy  to  himself,  as  he  shoul- 
dered his  bundle  and  started  toward  Rupert's 
boarding-house,  "there  is  no  danger  that  I 
shall  have  the  police  after  me.  If  Flint  is 
going  out  in  the  Morning  Light  of  course  I  must  go  too, 
for  he  is  the  only  friend  I  have  in  the  world,  and  I  am 
bound  to  stick  to  him.  I  don't  see  what  made  that 
shipping  agent  grow  so  very  cold  and  distant  all  of  a 
sudden.  I  wish  now,  since  he  has  shown  himself  so 
very  independent,  that  I  had  examined  that  paper  be- 
fore I  signed  it.  He  was  very  polite  until  he  got  me  to 
put  down  my  name,  and  then  he  was  almost  ready  to 
insult  me.  I  can't  imagine  what  need  I  shall  have  of 
all  these  thick  clothes  he  made  me  buy,"  added  Guy,  as 
he  shifted  his  heavy  bundle  from  one  shoulder  to  the 
other.  "  I  thought  it  was  warm  up  the  Mediterranean. 
I  knew  he  tried  to  fool  me  when  he  told  me  about  the 
jiearls  and  diamonds,  but  I  don't  care.  I  shall  see  some- 
thing of  the  world  and  be  my  own  master,  and  j)erhaps 
when  I  return  I  Avill  have  money  enough  to  take  me  out 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  haven't  given  up  my  idea 
of  being  a  hunter,  and  I  never  shall." 

Guy  passed  a  dreary  afternoon  at  the  boarding-house, 
in  spite  of  the  friendly  efforts  of  the  landlord  to  make 
things  pleasant  for  him.  That  gentleman  talked  in- 
cessantly and  told  wonderful  stories  about  the  rapid 
promotions  and  sudden  fortunes  that  were  sure  to  fall 
to  the  lot  of  everybody  who  was  fortunate  enough  to  go 
up  the  Mediterranean  on  the  clipper-ship  Morning 
Light.  But  Guy,  green  as  he  was,  did  not  believe  them. 
He  did  not  care  to  talk  either,  for  he  was  very  lonely 
and  wanted  to  see  Flint.     Contrary  to  the  landlord's 


124  GUY  HARRIS. 

promise,  the  sailor  did  not  make  his  appearance  at  the 
supper  table,  the  host  accounting  for  his  absence  by  tell- 
ing Guy  that  Flint  did  not  feel  very  well  and  wanted  to 
sleep  as  long;:s  he  could. 

'*'  May  I  see  him?"  asked  the  boy. 

'■'No,  he  doesn't  want  to  be  disturbed,"  was  the  re- 
j)ly.  "^I  have  just  been  to  his  room  to  tell  him  you 
were  here,  and  he  asked  me  to  tell  you  to  go  aboard 
your  vessel  at  six  o'clock,  and  he  will  come  as  soon  as 
he  awakes." 

Guy  was  not  at  all  pleased  with  this  arrangement. 
He  did  not  believe  that  Flint  had  sent  him  any  such 
instructions,  and  neither  did  he  want  to  go  away  with- 
out seeing  him.  But  he  could  not  help  himself,  for  at 
six  o'clock  precisely  Smith,  the  shipping  agent,  appeared 
and  ordered  him  to  shoulder  his  bundle  and  come  on. 

The  boy  was  obliged  to  obey.  He  followed  the  agent 
to  the  dock  and  into  a  yawl  manned  by  two  sailors,  who 
immediately  shoved  off  toward  a  vessel  lying  at  anchor 
in  the  harbor. 

Guy  did  not  like  the  looks  of  her.  If  she  was  a  clip- 
per, he  had  hitherto  had  very  erroneous  ideas  of  marine 
architecture,  he  told  himself.  She  looked  more  like  the 
pictures  he  liad  seen  of  Dutch  galliots. 

When  they  reached  her  Guy  followed  the  agent  over 
the  side,  and  one  of  the  sailors  threw  his  bundle  up 
after  him. 

"Here's  an  A.  B.  I  have  brought  you,"  said  the 
agent,  addressing  himself  to  a  man  ayIio  came  up  to 
meet  them. 

"  All  right,"  was  the  reply.      "  What's  his  name?" 

Guy  started  and  looked  sharply  at  the  speaker.  He 
was  certain  that  he  had  seen  him  before.  He  was 
dressed  like  the  man  who  had  introduced  himself  to 
Flint  as  the  second  mate  of  the  Santa  Maria,  and  his 
voice  was  wonderfully  like  the  mate's,  too.  Guy  tried 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  his  face,  but  it  was  effectually  con- 
cealed by  a  tarpaulin  and  a  heavy  woolen  muffler. 

"  His  name  is  John  Thomas,"  said  the  agent,  seeing 
that  Guy  did  not  answer  the  question. 


SHIPPING  A  CREW.  125 

'•Take  your  dunnao^e  into  the  forecastle,  Thomas, 
and  be  ready  to  turn  to  at  any  moment,"  said  the  man. 

'^I  declare,  he's  an  officer,"  thought  Guy,  "and  I 
really  believe  he's  the  second  mate  of  the  Santa  Maria. 
If  he  is,  how  came  he  here  on  board  the  Morning 
Light?     Dear  me,  I  wish  Flint  would  come." 

"Good-by,  Jack,"  said  the  agent,  shaking  the  boy's 
hand.  ''I've  got  you  into  tidy  quarters,  and  shall  ex- 
pect to  hear  a  good  report  of  you.'^ 

"'  What  do  you  suppose  keeps  Flint?"  asked  Guy  anx- 
iously. 

"  I  am  sure  I  can't  tell.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him,  you  know.  Eupert  shipped  him — I  didn't.  ]S^o 
doubt  he'll  be  aboard  directly.     Good-by." 

The  agent  disappeared  over  the  side  and  Guy  shoul- 
dered his  dunnage  and  went  down  into  the  forecastle. 
Three  or  four  of  the  bunks  Avere  already  occupied,  and, 
selecting  one  of  the  empty  ones,  Guy  made  up  his  bed 
in  it,  and  then  went  on  deck  to  look  about  him  and 
await  the  arrival  of  Flint. 

There  were  a  few  men  on  deck,  the  owners  of  the 
beds  he  had  seen  in  the  foz'ecastle,  but  they  did  not  no- 
tice Guy,  and  he  was  too  much  interested  in  his  own 
affairs  to  have  anything  to  say  to  them.  Flint's  ab- 
sence was  the  source  of  great  anxiety  to  him.  He  could 
not  account  for  it,  and  neither  could  he  explain  the  re- 
markable resemblance  between  the  man  who  met  him 
as  he  came  over  the  side  and  the  second  mate  of  the 
Santa  Maria,  whom  he  had  last  seen  in  the  piiblic  room 
of  the  boarding-house. 

"  Could  it  be  jjossible,"  he  asked  himself — and  at  the 
thought  the  blood  went  rushing  back  upon  his  heart, 
leaving  his  face  as  jmle  as  death  itself — "that  the  agent 
had  made  a  mistake  and  brought  him  to  the  Santa 
Maria  instead  of  the  Morning  Light  ?'" 

"  Great  Caasar!"  thought  Guy,  catching  his  breath, 
"if  that  is  the  case  I'm  among  the  ghosts  in  spite  of 
myself.  I'll  ask  some  of  these  men.  Of  course  they 
know  the  name  of  the  vessel." 


126  GUY  HARRIS. 

As  Cluy  was  about  to  act  upon  this  resolution  his  at- 
tention Avas  attracted  by  the  sound  of  oars,  and  riiniiing' 
to  the  side  he  saw  a  hirge  yawl  approaching  tiie  ship. 

His  hopes  arose  wonderfully,  but  fell  again  when  he 
discovered  that  there  were  but  three  men  in  the  boat — 
two  plying  the  oars  and  the  other  sitting  in  the  stern 
with  his  hands  on  the  tiller. 

"  Boat  ahoy!"  said  the  mate,  leaning  over  the  rail  and 
speaking  almost  in  a  whisper. 

'^  Ku pert!"  was  the  answer,  given  in  the  same  cau- 
tious tone. 

''AH  right,"  exclaimed  the  officer.  ''I  thought  you 
were  never  coming.  Stand  by  there,  one  of  you,  to 
catch  the  painter.  Cap'n,"  he  added,  thrusting  his 
head  down  the  companion  way, "the  boat's  come." 

Guy,  being  the  nearest  at  hand,  caught  the  painter  as 
it  came  whirling  up  to  him,  and  as  he  drew  the  boat  up 
to  the  ladder  that  was  quickly  lowered  over  the  side,  he 
was  surprised  to  see  that  she  was  loaded  almost  to  the 
water's  edge. 

A  number  of  bundles  and  chests  were  piled  in  the 
bow,  and  the  bottom  Avas  covered  Avitli  men — probably  a 
dozen  or  fifteen  of  them  in  all — Avho  appeared  to  be 
asleep.  Of  those  Avho  managed  the  yawl  one  Avas 
Kupert,  the  boarding-house  keeper,  and  the  others  Avere 
tAvo  of  his  assistants,  Avho  had  rushed  into  the  bar-room 
to  quell  the  fight,  or  rather  to  hel^j  it  along. 

Guy  recognized  them  at  once.  He  Avondered  Avhat 
they  Avere  going  to  do  Avith  the  men  Avho  Avere  lying  on 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  Avas  not  long  in  finding  out. 

The  men  must  have  been  slumbering  heavily,  for  the 
landlord  and  his  assistants  made  no  effort  to  arouse 
them,  but  lifting  them  in  their  arms,  one  after  the 
other,  carried  them  up  the  ladder  and  laid  them  in  a 
roAV  on  the  deck,  as  if  they  had  been  dead  men. 

The  last  one  Avlio  Avas  brought  over  the  side  was  Dick 
Flint,  limp  and  lifeless  like  the  rest.  Guy  Avas  greatly 
horrified  and  disgusted  to  see  his  friend  in  such  a  condi- 
tion.     He  had  been  almost  twenty-four  hours  trying  to 


SHIPPING  A  CRE  W.  127 

sleep  off  the  effect  of  the  ^'blow  out"  at  which  he  luid 
assisted.     He  must  have  been  very  drunk  indeed. 

"  I  wish  to  goodness  I  had  stayed  ashore,"  said  Clay, 
almost  ready  to  cry  with  vexation.  "I  don't  want  a 
drunkard  for  my  companion,  and  I'll  tell  Flint  so  at  the 
very  first  opportunity.  I  believe  home  is  the  best  place 
for  a  boy  after  all.  If  he  gets  whipped  and  scolded 
sometimes  when  he  doesn't  deserve  it,  he  always  has 
plenty  to  eat,  a  good  bed  to  sleep  in,  and  isn't  obliged  to 
associate  with  such  wretches  as  these.  Halloo!  what  is 
the  captain  up  to,  I  Avonder?" 

The  men  had  all  been  carried  to  the  deck  by  this  time, 
and  now  a  piece  of  iniquity  Avas  enacted  that  struck  Guy 
dumb  with  amazement.  The  captain  and  his  mate,  ac- 
companied by  the  boarding-house  keeper,  approached 
the  place  where  the  sailors  were  lying.  The  former 
held  in  his  hands  a  pen  and  a  roll  of  paper,  which  proved 
to  be  the  shipping  articles  Gruy  had  signed  in  the  agent's 
office;  the  mate  carried  an  inkstand  and  Rupert  a 
lantern. 

'MVhat  is  this  man's  name?''  asked  the  captain,  stop- 
ping at  the  head  of  the  row  and  ^jointing  Avith  his  pen 
toAvard  one  of  the  prostrate  sailors. 

"  Richard  Flint,"  replied  the  landlord,  "  and  he  is  an 
able  seaman." 

The  captain  Avrote  Flint's  name  and  rate  on  the  shij)- 
ping  articles,  and  then  kneeling  doAvn  beside  him,  placed 
the  pen  betAveen  his  nerveless  fingers,  and  seizing  his 
hand  in  his  own,  described  a  cross  with  it  upon  the  ship- 
ping articles.  This  done,  the  captain  passed  the  pen 
over  to  his  mate,  who  signed  his  OAvn  name  opposite 
Flint's,  and  the  latter  stood  on  the  shipping  articles  in 
this  Avay: 

his 

Richard  X  Flint,  A.  B. 

mark 

Jacob  Schavartz, 
Second  Mate,  and  witness  to  signature. 


128  GUY  HARRIS. 

AlthougTi  the  wliolo  proceeding  was  most  outrageous, 
the  form  was  according  to  law,  and  Flint,  had  he  re- 
covered his  senses  at  that  moment,  would  have  been  held 
for  the  cruise  in  spite  of  him.self.  Remonstrance  would 
have  been  of  no  avail,  and  resistance  would  have  ren- 
dered him  liable  to  punishment. 

But  this  was  not  all  the  wickedness  that  was  perpe- 
trated upon  the  unconscious  seaman.  While  the  mate 
was  signing  his  name  to  the  articles  the  captain  pro- 
duced his  i30cket-book  and  counted  out  forty  dollars  in 
bills,  which  he  placed  in  Flint's  hand,  and  closing  his 
fingers  over  them,  turned  to  the  man  who  lay  next 
to  him,  and  whom  he  shipped  and  paid  in  the  same 
manner. 

Guy  had  been  a  puzzled  witness  of  the  whole  proceed- 
ings, but  now  he  thought  he  begun  to  understand  it. 

"I  have  been  lied  to  and  cheated," said  he  to  himself. 
''^  Rupert  and  Smith  both  told  me  that  Flint  had  signed 
articles  and  received  his  advance  all  fair  and  square;  and 
if  that  was  the  truth,  how  does  it  come  that  he  is  being 
shipjjed  and  paid  over  again?  I  am  afraid  I  have  got 
myself  into  a  scrape." 

Guy  did  not  know  just  what  sort  of  a  scrape  he  had 
got  into,  and  he  could  not  stop  to  think  about  it  then, 
for  another  matter  demanded  his  attention.  He  was  in- 
terested in  Flint's  affairs,  and  knowing  that  the  sailor 
could  not  take  care  of  his  money  while  he  was  in  that 
condition,  he  started  toward  him,  intending  to  take  pos- 
session of  it,  and  give  it  to  him  when  he  became  sober; 
but  what  was  his  surprise  to  see  Rupert  step  up  to  the 
insensible  man,  and  coolly  unclasping  his  fingers,  put  the 
money  in  his  own  pocket.  In  other  words,  he  deliber- 
ately rob1)ed  Flint,  and  that,  too,  before  the  face  and 
eyes  of  the  captain  and  his  mate,  who,  although  they 
must  have  observed  the  act,  did  not  pay  the  least  atten- 
tion to  it.  This  was  more  than  Guy  could  stand.  He 
walked  up  to  the  captain  and  boldly  charged  Rupert 
witli  the  theft. 

"  Captain," said  he^  ''do  you  see  what  this  landlord  is 


SmPPlMG  A   CRE  W.  139 

doing?  He  is  stealing  the  advance  as  fast  as  you  pay  it  to 
the  men/^ 

The  result  of  this  exposure  of  the  boarding-house 
keeper  was  just  what  Guy  might  have  looked  for  had  he 
taken  time  to  consider  the  matter  before  acting.  He 
su^Dposed^  in  his  simplicity,  that  the  landlord  would  turn 
pale  and  tremble,  like  the  guilty  wretch  he  was,  and  that 
the  captain,  after  compelling  him  to  return  the  money, 
would  arrest  him  on  the  sjiot,  or  unceremoniously  kick 
him  off  his  vessel.  But  nothing  of  the  kind  happened. 
Eupert  looked  a  little  surprised,  but  only  gave  Guy  one 
quick  glance  and  held  the  lantern  lower,  so  that  the  cap- 
tain could  see  to  sign  another  name.  The  latter,  how- 
ever, arose  hastily,  placed  his  pen  between  his  teeth,  and 
seizing  Guy  by  the  throat,  choked  him  until  he  was  black 
in  the  face;  and  then,  with  a  strong  push,  sent  him 
sprawling  on  deck. 

'•'There,  now,^^  said  he,  ''that's  the  first  lesson;  and 
if  it  don't  learn  you  to  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head, 
and  speak  when  you're  spoken  to,  I'll  give  you  another 
that'll  sink  deeper.  Turn  to  and  carry  that  dunnage 
into  the  forecastle.'^ 

The  severe  choking  to  which  Guy  had  been  subjected, 
and  the  jarring  occasioned  by  his  heavy  fall  on  deck,  had 
well-nigh  proved  too  much  for  him.  His  head  whirled 
about  like  a  top,  sparks  of  fire  danced  before  his  eyes, 
and  his  legs  for  the  moment  refused  to  support  him. 
He  was  in  no  condition  just  then  to  carry  heavy  burdens, 
but  he  had  heard  the  order  and  dared  not  disregard  it. 
His  last  week's  experience  on  board  the  Ossipee  had 
taught  him  that  instant  obedience  and  unquestioning 
submission  is  the  whole  duty  of  a  foremast  hand.  He  is 
looked  upon  as  a  slave,  a  beast  of  burden,  an  unreason- 
ing brute,  who  has  no  right  to  any  desires,  feelings,  or 
will  of  his  own.  If  he  receives  a  blow  from  a  handspike 
that  \vould  brain  an  ox,  he  has  no  business  to  become  in- 
sensible or  get  sick  over  it,  but  must  jumjD  up  at  once 
and  resume  his  work  with  cheerfulness  and  alacrity. 
Guy,  however  could  not  do  this,  for  he  had  not  yet  been 


130  GUY  ilARKlS. 

sufficiently  hardened.  He  pulled  himself  up  by  the  fife- 
niil  and  clung  to  it  several  minutes  before  his  head  be- 
came steady,  so  tliat  he  could  walk. 

Was  this  the  beginning  of  the  "better  times  "  which, 
according  to  Flint,  he  was  to  enjoy  when  once  he  was 
'"'fairly  afloat?"  Guy  asked  himself;  and  then  seeing  the 
ca2itain  looking  liis  way,  he  released  his  hold  on  the  fife- 
rail,  and  staggered  toward  the  ])undles  belonging  to  the 
sailors,  which  lay  where  liiipert  and  his  assistants  had 
thrown  them.  With  great  difficulty,  for  he  was  still 
very  weak,  he  raised  one  of  them  to  his  shoulder,  and 
carrying  it  to  the  forecastle,  threw  it  into  one  of  the 
empty  bunks. 

As  he  was  about  to  return  to  the  deck  he  met  two  of 
the  crew  coming  down  the  ladder  carrying  the  insensi- 
ble form  of  Dick  Flint  between  them.  They  did  not 
handle  him  very  gently,  but  ])itched  him  into  one  of  the 
bunks  as  if  he  had  been  a  log  of  wood,  and  laughed  and 
passed  some  rough  joke  when  his  head  came  in  contact 
with  the  hard  boards. 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves!'^  said  Guy, 
indignantly.  "  This  man  is  my  friend,  and  too  good  a 
fellow  to  be  jammed  about  in  that  way,  even  if  he  is 
drunk." 

"  Well,  now,  who  are  3^ou  that  comes  here  giving 
orders  and  making  yourself  so  free?"  demanded  one  of 
the  men,  turning  fiercely  upon  Guy. 

"  I  am  a  sailor  like  yourself,  and  a  better  one  than 
you  dare  ever  be,"  retorted  the  runaway,  little  dreaming 
how  soon  he  would  be  called  upon  to  make  good  his 
boast. 

"  I  ain't  saying  nothing  against  that,"  said  the  man, 
with  a  little  more  respect  in  his  tones;  "  but  Fd  like  to 
know  what  port  you  have  sailed  out  of  all  your  life  that 
you  can't  tell  the  difference  between  a  man  that's  drunk 
and  one  that's  drugged!" 

"  Drugged!"  exclaimed  Guy,  utterly  confounded. 

''Yes;  that's  what's  the  matter  with  your  mate.  The 
last  glass  he  took  was  doctored.  You  might  pound  him 
to  death  with  a  belaying-pin  and  never  hurt  him." 


SHIPPINQ^A   CREW.  131 

"Drugged!"  repeated  Guy,  some  scraps  of  tlie  con- 
versation he  had  hehl  Avith  Flint  at  the  boarding-house 
coming  vividly  to  his  mind.  "  What  ship  is  this?"  he 
asked  suddenly. 

"'Why,  didn't  you  sign  articles?" 

"Yes,  but  I'm  afraid  I've  been  cheated." 

"No,  I  guess  not,"  said  the  sailor.  "You  came 
aboard  with  a  clear  head  on  your  shoulders,  so  you're 
all  right." 

But  Guy  was  quite  positive  that  he  Avas  not  all  right. 
He  would  have  given  a  montli's  wages  to  know  the 
name  of  the  vessel  he  had  shipped  on,  but  dared  not 
press  the  man  to  give  a  direct  answer  to  his  question,  for 
fear  that  some  strong  suspicions  that  had  suddenly 
arisen  in  his  mind  would  be  confirmed. 

"I  just  know  this  is  the  Santa  Maria,"  said  the  boy 
to  himself,  at  the  same  time  casting  a  quick  glance 
around  the  dimly  lighted  forecastle.  "  I  know  it  as 
well  as  I  know  that  I  am  alive.  Everything  goes  to 
prove  it.  In  the  first  place  the  men  Kupert  brought 
here  in  his  boat  are  the  same  ones  I  saw  playing  cards 
in  his  house.  Flint  predicted  that  they  would  all  be 
drugged  and  shipped  aboard  the  Santa  Maria,  and 
things  have  turned  out  just  as  he  said  they  would.  But 
how  did  Flint  himself  manage  to  be  caught  in  the  trap? 
That's  what  beats  me.  In  the  second  ]:)lace  the  mate, 
who  witnessed  the  signatures  on  the  shipping  articles, 
is  the  same  man  I  saw  at  Rupert's,  and  who  said  he  Avas 
an  officer  of  the  Santa  Maria.  I  knoAV  him  in  spite  of 
his  tarpaulin  and  Avoolen  mutfier,  for  he's  got  the  same 
clothes  on.  Dear  me!  I  Avish  Flint  Avould  Avake  up  and 
tell  me  Avhat  to  do." 

While  Guy's  thoughts  Avere  running  in  this  channel, 
he  was  working  industriously  at  his  task  of  carrying 
the  sailors'  bundles  into  the  forecastle,  and  finally  he 
found  Flint's  among  them. 

Hastily  untying  it,  he  took  out  two  blankets,  and 
rolling  up  one  of  them  to  serve  as  a  pilloAv,  he  put  it 
under  his  friend's  head  and  spread  the  other  over  his 


132  GUY  HARRIS. 

shoulders.  As  he  was  making  his  way  up  the  ladder 
to  bring  down  the  last  bundle^,  he  heard  the  sjolashing  of 
oars  close  by,  and  running  to  the  side,  saw  a  yawl 
approaching. 

"  Ship  ahoy!"  cried  one  of  the  men  in  the  yawl. 

"  Halloo!"  replied  the  mate. 

''What  ship  is  this?" 

Guy  listened  with  all  his  ears  to  hear  the  maters  re- 
ply, but  the  officer  leaned  as  far  over  the  rail  as  he 
could,  and  spoke  in  a  tone  so  low  that  Guy  could  not 
catch  his  words. 

'•'  When  are  you  going  to  sail?"  asked  the  man  in  the 
yawl. 

"Just  as  soon  as  we  can  haul  up  our  mud-hook,"  re- 
plied the  mate. 

"  Got  your  crew  all  aboard?" 

''Yes." 

"  Have  you  one  among  your  hands  of  the  name  of 
Guy  Harris?" 

"Merciful  Heavens!"  thought  Guy.  "Who  in  the 
world  can  that  be,  and  what  does  he  v/ant  of  me?  Is 
it  the  detective  who  arrested  Bob  Walker  in  Chicago? 
Great  Scott!" 

Guy  did  not  wait  to  hear  any  more  of  the  conver- 
sation, but  hastily  catching  up  the  bundle,  threw  it 
over  his  shoulders  and  ran  into  the  forecastle. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AN"   UNWELCOME    DISCOVERY. 

UY  EEMAINED  in  the  forecastle  just  long 
enough  to  rid  himself  of  his  bundle,  and 
then  ran  back  nj?  the  ladder.  Frightened  as 
he  was,  he  was  possessed  by  an  irresistible 
desire  to  learn  who  it  was  that  wanted  to  see  him.  He 
intended  to  return  to  the  deck  and  crouch  down  by  the 
side,  where  he  could  hear  what  was  said;  but  when  he 
had  ascended  the  ladder  a  few  steps  he  heard  the  sound 
of  voices  near  by,  and  saAV  that  the  occupants  of  the 
yawl  had  boarded  the  vessel.  There  were  four  of  them, 
three  were  policemen  and  the  other  was  Mr.  Hey  ward. 
The  latter  held  the  shipping  articles  in  his  hand,  and 
by  the  aid  of  Rupert's  lantern  was  looking  for  Guy's 
name.  The  captain  and  his  mate  stood  at  a  little  dis- 
tance looking  on. 

"  The  name  don't  seem  to  be  on  the  list,"  said  one  of 
the  officers,  who  was  looking  over  Mr.  Heyward's 
shoulder. 

"'I  told  you  it  wasn't!"  growled  the  skipper.  "If 
you  ain't  satisfied,  search  the  ship.  What  has  the  man 
been  doing,  anyhow?" 

"It  isn't  a  man  I  am  after,  but  a  boy,"  said  Mr.  Hey- 
ward.  "  He  is  an  important  witness  in  a  case  I  intend 
to  bring  before  the  courts  next  month." 

"  Who  told  you  he  Avas  aboard  my  shiiD?"  demanded 
the  captain. 

"  JSTo  one.  He  slipped  out  of  the  court-room  this 
morning  before  I  knew  it,  and  as  he  cannot  be  found 
about  the  city,  it  struck  me  he  might  be  on  board  some 
vessel,  for  he  is  a  sailor.  If  I  find  him  I  shall  have  him 
locked  up.  I  am  satisfied  that  he  is  not  here,"  said  Mr. 
Heyward,  handing  the  shipping  articles  to  the  mate, 
"1  am  all  ready,  Mr.  Officer,  if  you  are." 


134  GUY  HARRIS. 

"  I  want  to  ask  the  captain  just  one  question  before  I 
go,"  answered  the  policeman.  "How  long  has  your 
vessel  been  lying  here?" 

"Al)out  four  days." 

"  Have  you  kept  a  watch  on  board  all  the  while?" 

"  Of  course  I  have,"  replied  the  captain  testily. 
"  Do  you  think  I  am  fool  enough  to  leave  a  shij)  with  a 
valuable  cargo  without  a  watch?" 

"  I  merely  asked  for  information.  Those  burglars  who 
broke  into  that  jewelry  store  night  before  last — you 
heard  about  it,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes.     Did  tliey  get  anything?" 

"They  made  a  big  haul.  There  is  a  heavy  reward 
offered  for  them,  but  they  have  disappeared  very  mys- 
teriously. We  have  positive  proof  that  thev  have  not 
left  the  city,  and  it  may  be  that  they  have  concealed 
themselves  on  some  vessel  which  they  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve is  about  to  sail." 

"  H  you  think  they  are  here  you  had  better  look 
around,"  said  the  captain.  "  I  don't  want  any  such 
passengers  with  me." 

"  Oh,  if  you  have  had  a  watch  aboard  your  vessel  all 
the  time  they  could  not  have  got  here  without  your 
knowledge,  so  there's  no  use  in  searching  the  ship. 
Good-by,  captain.      I  wish  you  a  pleasant  voyage." 

Seeing  that  Mr.  Heyward  and  his  companions  were 
about  to  go  over  the  side,  Guy  ducked  his  head  and 
beat  a  hasty  retreat  into  the  forecastle. 

"Whew!"  he  panted,  drawing  his  coat-sleeve  across 
his  forehead,  "wasn't  that  a  narrow  escape?  1  don't 
think  much  of  such  laws  as  they  have  in  this  country, 
anyhow.  I  haven't  done  anything  to  be  punished  for, 
and  yet  Mr.  Heyward,  if  ho  could  have  found  me,  would 
have  had  me  locked  up  in  jail  for  a  whole  month.  It's 
lucky  I  didn't  sign  my  right  name  to  tlie  articles." 

Guy  was  aroused  from  liis  reverie  by  the  sound  of 
bustle  and  hurry  on  deck,  and  while  he  was  wondering 
what  it  was  all  about  he  was  summoned  from  his  hiding- 
place  by  the  hoarse  voice  of  the  second  mate.     When 


AN  UNWELCOME  DISCOVERY.  135 

he  reached  the  deck  he  found  that  preparations  were 
being  made  to  get  the  ship  under  way.  There  were 
four  sober  men  in  the  crew — those  Guy  had  found  on 
the  vessel  when  he  first  came  aboard — and  Guy  and  the 
mate  made  six.  Tliere  Avere  fourteen  sailors  in  the 
bunks  below,  so  that  the  vessel's  company,  counting  in 
the  captain  and  leaving  out  the  first  officer,  who  for 
some  reason  or  other  had  not  yet  made  his  ajDpearance, 
numbered  twenty-one  men. 

"Now,  then,  look  alive,"  said  the  mate.  "There's 
only  a  few  of  us  to  do  this  work  to-night,  but  there'll 
be  more  in  the  morning.  Here,  Thomas,  clap  on  to 
the  standing  part  of  that  messenger,  lead  it  aft,  and 
make  it  fast  to  a  ring-bolt  on  the  starboard  side." 

Every  word  of  this  command  was  Greek  to  frightened 
and  bewildered  Guy,  who  stood  looking  about  the  deck 
undecided  which  way  to  turn.  He  had  heard  of  "  mes- 
senger-boys," but  he  did  not  know  that  there  were  any 
on  board,  unless  he  Avas  one,  and  he  couldn't  see  the  use 
of  leading  himself  aft  and  making  himself  fast  to  a 
ring-bolt,  Avhatever  that  might  be. 

"  Sir?"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  had  collected  himself  so 
that  he  could  speak. 

"SirF'  echoed  the  mate  Avith  a  terrific  oath.  "I 
spoke  plainly  enough,  didn't  I?     Where's  your  ears?" 

"They're  on  my  head.  But  I  don't  see  any  messen- 
ger-boy." 

"  Messen Who  said  anything  about  a  messenger- 
boy?"  roared  the  mate.  "What's  this,  you  lubber?"  he 
continued,  picking  up  a  rojie  Avhicli  led  from  the  place 
Avhere  they  Avere  standing  through  a  block  made  fast  to 
the  cable  and  thence  to  the  capstan.  "  What  is  it,  I 
say?  But  look  here,  my  hearty,  didn't  you  ship  for  an 
able  seaman?" 

"Yes,  I— no;  no,  I  didn't." 

"Yes,  he  did,  Mr.  Schwartz,"  said  the  captain,  Avho 
had  been  a  Avitness  to  the  Avhole  loroceeding.  "'  He  did. 
Lay  that  messenger  over  his  shoulders,  and  do  it  so 
smartly  that  he  Avill  knoAv  one  the  nest  time  he  sees  it." 


136  GUY  HARRIS. 

The  mate  swung  one  end  of  the  heavy  rox)e  in  the  air, 
and  Guy,  with  a  piercing  cry  of  terror,  sprang  away 
and  took  to  his  heels;  but  not  in  time  to  escape  the 
blow.  The  rope  fell  across  his  shoulders  with  such 
crushing  force  that  Guy  wilted  under  it  as  if  every  bone 
in  his  body  had  been  broken  by  the  concussion.  As  he 
scrambled  to  his  feet  he  was  met  by  the  captain. 

"■  Go  for'ard — don't  come  back  here,"  said  that  officer, 
emphasizing  his  command  with  a  jmsh  that  once  more 
made  Guy  measure  his  length  on  deck.  "^  You  don't 
belong  here.     Go  for'ard,  you  lubber." 

"Come  here,"  said  the  mate,  shaking  his  fist  at  Guy. 
"  Come  here  and  get  a  handspike." 

Guy  understood  this  order.  He  knew  what  a  hand- 
spike was  and  what  to  do  with  it  after  he  had  got  it. 
Dodging  around  the  other  side  of  the  deck  to  avoid 
passing  the  mate,  he  found  one  of  the  implements,  and 
shipping  it  into  the  capstan  began  heaving  around  with  the 
rest,  who  were  by  this  time  at  Avork  hoisting  the  anchor. 
He  kept  one  eye  on  the  mate  all  the  while,  for  he  Avas 
afraid  that  he  might  have  more  punishment  in  store  for 
him.  And  he  had.  When  Guy  came  around  Avithin 
reach  of  him  the  officer  suddenly  lifted  a  short  roj)e 
which  he  had  kept  concealed  behind  him,  and  rained 
the  bloAvs  upon  the  boy's  shoulders  in  a  perfect  shoAA^er. 
Guy  endured  it  until  he  believed  that  the  mate  had  de- 
termined to  beat  him  to  death,  and  then  he  dropped  the 
capstan  bar  and  run  for  his  life. 

''  Come  back  here!"  shouted  the  mate. 

"Murder!  murder!"  screamed  Guy,-  crouching  close 
against  the  side,  and  holding  both  hands  before  his  face. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  officer,  seizing  him  by  the  collar 
and  throAving  him  back  toAvard  the  capstan.  "You'll 
sing  that  tune  a  good  many  times  before  you  see  the  last 
of  me.  I'll  learn  you  hoAV  to  rate  yourself  the  next  time 
you  ship." 

"  I  didn't  want  to  ship  as  able  seaman,"  sobbed  Guy, 
"but  Smith " 

"  Heave  aheadj  there!"  interrupted  the  mate,  again 


AN  UNWELCOME  DISCOVERY.  137 

raising  the  rope.  "  ISTo  back  talk  allowed  here.  I'm 
going  to  haze  you  beautiful." 

That  was  a  long  and  dreary  night  to  Guy,  and  he 
scarcely  knew  how  he  lived  through  it.  He  did  not 
understand  a  single  order  that  was  issued,  and  of  course 
could  lend  no  hand  in  the  working  of  the  vessel. 

He  did  his  best,  fearing  the  rope's-end,  but  his  clumsy 
efforts  only  got  him  deejDer  into  trouble.  The  sailors 
swore  at  him  and  pushed  him  roughly  out  of  the  way, 
and  the  mate  cuffed  and  kicked  him  every  time  he  came 
within  reach.  Guy  really  thought  he  was  doomed.  He 
never  expected  to  live  to  see  the  sun  rise  again. 

The  vessel  was  kept  under  way  about  three  hours, 
and  at  twelve  o'clock  came  to  anchor  under  the  lee  of  a 
high,  wooded  point  which  jutted  out  into  the  sea, 

Guy  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  when  he  heard  the 
cable  rattling  through  the  hawse-hole,  and  told  himself 
that  his  labors  and  troubles  were  over  for  that  night  at 
least.     But  as  usual  he  was  disappointed. 

The  captain,  not  caring  to  go  to  sea  short-handed,  had 
stopped  here  to  wait  until  his  crew  should  become  sober, 
and  to  perform  some  necessary  work,  such  as  getting  on 
chafing  gear,  lashing  spars  and  water-butts  and  stowing 
the  boats.  And  Guy,  with  all  the  rest,  was  kept  busy 
until  half-past  three  o'clock,  when  he  was  ordered  below 
to  sleep  until  five.  But  he  never  once  closed  his  eyes — 
he  was  in  too  much  agony,  both  mentally  and  physically. 
He  passed  the  hour  and  a  half  in  rolling  about  in  his 
bunk  bemoaning  his  hard  fate,  and  resolving  over  and 
over  again  that  if  he  Avere  spared  to  put  his  foot  on  shore 
once  more  he  would  never,  as  long  as  he  lived,  go  with- 
in sight  of  salt  water. 

As  the  first  gray  streaks  of  dawn  were  seen  in  the  east 
two  men  came  doAvn  into  the  forecastle.  Guy  gave  a 
start  of  surprise  when  his  eyes  rested  on  them,  for  he 
knew  them  both. 

The  first  was  the  mate,  of  whom  he  had  already 
learned  to  stand  in  abject  fear,  and  he  knew  now  what 
he  had  all  along  suspected — that  he  was  the  same  man 


138  GUY  HARRIS. 

Avhom  he  had  met  at  the  board ing-honse.  He  recog- 
nized liiin  in  a  moment,  for  his  face  was  not  concealed 
as  it  had  been  tlie  night  before.  Guy  wondered  what 
evil  genius  had  sent  him  aboard  the  Morning  Light, 

In  regard  to  the  identity  of  the  mate's  companion 
there  was  no  sort  of  doubt  in  the  boy's  mind,  although 
he  took  two  good  looks  at  him,  and  then  rubbed  his  eyes 
and  looked  again  before  he  was  willing  to  credit  the 
evidence  of  his  senses.  He  knew  those  gray  clothes 
and  that  mottled  face  and  fur  cap.  He  had  seen  them 
all  in  the  court-room  the  day  before.  The  man  to  whom 
they  belonged  was  the  robber  against  whom  he  had  testi- 
fied, and  who  had  looked  at  him  so  savagely  while  he 
was  giving  his  evidence. 

This  man,  as  the  sequel  proved,  was  the  first  mate  of 
the  vessel,  who  had  left  his  bondsmen  in  the  lurch.  He 
had  just  come  off  in  a  shore  boat,  not  having  considered 
it  safe  to  join  the  vessel  while  she  was  in  the  harbor,  for 
fear  there  might  be  some  one  on  the  watch.  Guy,  of 
course,  Icnew  nothing  of  this,  but  having  become  very 
suspicious  of  late,  he  made  a  remarkably  shrewd  guess 
as  to  the  real  facts  of  the  case. 

A  thrill  of  terror  run  through  the  boy's  frame  like  a 
shock  of  electricity  when  he  reflected  that  he  was  com- 
pletely in  this  villain's  power,  and  that  if  he  felt  dis- 
posed to  take  revenge  on  him  for  the  evidence  Guy  had 
given  against  him  he  would  have  every  ojjportunity  to 
do  it. 

With  a  cautious  movement  Guy  pulled  the  blanket 
over  his  head,  leaving  a  little  opening  chrough  which  he 
could  watch  the  movements  of  the  two  men.  They  had 
come  down  there  to  arouse  the  crew.  They  ste|)i:)cd  up 
to  one  of  the  bunks  and  seizing  the  occupant  by  the 
shoulder  shook  him  roughly, 

"Halloo!"  exclaimed  the  first  mate,  ''this  is  one  of 
our  old  hands,  Jim  Upham,  and  dead  as  a  log  yet.'" 

"  Yes,'"  returned  his  companion  with  a  chuckle,  "'  and 
if  he  knows  when  he  is  well  off  he  will  stay  that  way  as 
long  as  he  can.     I've  a  fine  rod  in  pickle  for  him  and 


AN  UNWELCOME  DISCOVERY.  139 

his  mate  yonder  in  the  next  bunk,  for  it  was  owing  to 
them  that  we  were  four  clays  in  finding  a  crew." 

Tlie  two  officers  proceeded  to  make  tlie  circuit  of  the 
forecastle,  stopping  at  each  bunk  long  enough  to  give 
the  occupant  a  good  sound  shaking.  The  sober  ones— 
those  who  had  been  on  duty  the  night  before — quickly 
responded,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  dressed  were  ordered 
to  rig  the  liead-pump  and  get  ready  to  wash  down  the 
deck;  but  the  others — those  who  had  been  brought  olf 
in  Ivupert's  yawl — could  not  be  aroused.  The  effects  of 
the  drug,  whatever  it  was,  that  the  landlord  had  put  into 
their  "last  glass,"  had  not  yet  been  slept  off. 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  first  mate,  "if  they  don't 
come  around  directly  we'll  put  them  under  the  pump. 
Who's  this?"  he  added,  pulling  the  blankets  off  Guy's 
head. 

"  Oh,  he's  a  young  sneak  who  has  come  aboard  to  be 
hazed.  He  shipjied  for  a  sailor-man,  and  don't  know  a 
marlinspike  from  the  starboard  side  of  the  vessel." 

"Eh?"  exclaimed  the  first  mate,  stepping  back  a  little 
out  of  the  light  and  bending  over  until  his  face  almost 
touched  Guy's,  "haven't  I  seen  this  young — oh,  he's  a 
lubber,  is  he?     Well,  roll  out  and  turn  to." 

The  expression  in  the  mate's  eye  and  the  tones  of  his 
voice  indicated  that  he  was  about  to  say  something  else; 
but  he  recollected  himself  just  in  time.  Guy  knew  that 
he  had  been  on  the  point  of  referring  to  the  sce]ie  in  the 
court-room,  and  he  was  afraid  that  he  might  yet  hear 
from  the  man  concerning  it,  and  at  no  distant  day 
either.  He  did  hear  of  it  before  a  cpiarter  of  an  hour 
had  passed  away.  While  he  was  busy  at  work  washing 
the  deck  the  first  mate  came  up,  handed  him  a  swab, 
and  under  pretense  of  showing  him  where  to  use  it,  lecl 
him  out  of  earshot  of  the  sailors  at  the  pump. 

"  I  didn't  think  I  should  have  a  chance  to  scjuare  yards 
with  you  so  soon,  my  lad,"  said  he,  with  a  savage 
emphasis.  "  Now  I  am  going  to  make  you  think  this 
ship  is  a  frying-pan;  and  if  I  hear  you  lisp  a  word  about 
what  happened  yesterday,  I  will  Ic ill  you.  Do  you  un- 
derstand that?    Answer  me;  do  you  understand  it?" 


140  GUY  HARRIS. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Guy  managed  to  reply. 

"Well,  bear  ifc  in  mind,  for  it  is  gospel.  I  mean  just 
what  I  say — no  less." 

Guy  did  not  doubt  it  in  the  least.  A  man  who  carried 
a  face  like  that  of  the  mate  was  capable  of  any  atrocity. 
Between  him  and  the  second  officer  it  was  very  probable 
that  the  ship  Avould  be  made  a  great  deal  warmer  than  a 
frying-pan.  He  knew  that  he  was  utterly  defenseless, 
and  that  there  was  no  possible  way  to  avoid  the  punish- 
ment the  mates  intended  to  inflict  npon  him.  The  "only 
thing  he  could  do  was  to  perform  his  duty  to  the  best  of 
his  ability,  and  that  too  with  the  disheartening  convic- 
tion all  the  while  forcing  itself  upon  his  mind,  that  no 
matter  how  hard  he  tried,  the  officers  would  find  some 
excuse  for  using  a  rope's  end  on  him. 

While  Guy  was  busy  with  his  swab,  performing  his 
work  as  well  as  he  could  see  to  do  it  through  eyes  blinded 
with  tears,  he  happened  to  glance  toward  the  forecastle 
and  saw  Flint  slowly  ascending  the  ladder.  Guy  could 
hardly  believe  that  it  was  he.  The  sailor  looked,  as  he 
afterward  said  he  felt — "  as  dilapidated  as  a  last  year's 
bird's  nest."  His  hair  was  disheveled,  his  face  haggard 
and  j)ale,  his  eyes  blood-shot,  and  had  he  been  seen  in 
the  woods  just  then,  he  would  have  been  taken  for  a  wild 
man.  Never  in  his  life  had  Guy  seen  such  an  expression 
of  utter  amazement  and  bewilderment  as  that  which  his 
friend's  face  wore  as  it  arose  slowly  above  the  combings 
of  the  hatchway.  Flint  Avas  lost,  and  it  took  him  some 
time  to  get  his  bearings.  He  looked  around  the  deck, 
and  finally  his  eyes  fell  ujoou  Guy. 

"'  Halloo,  mate  I"  said  he,  with  a  sickly  smile  and  an 
abortive  attempt  to  appear  cheerful;  "  I  knew  you  were 
somewhere  about,  for  I  couldn't  think  of  anybody  else 
who  would  put  a  blanket  under  my  head  for  a  pillow, 
and  spread  another  over  me  to  keep  me  warm.  What 
ship  is  this?" 

"The  clipper  Morning  Light,"  said  Guy.  "You 
don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  in  your  sober  senses 
again.     I  want  to  talk  to  you." 


Aisr  UNWELCOME  DISCOVERY.  141 

''Clipper  be — -blessed," said  Flint,  looking  all  around. 
That  wasn't  just  the  word  he  used,  but  it  is  as  strong 
a  one  as  we  care  to  put  in  print.  "  Where  are  we 
bound  ?" 

''Up  the  Mediterranean," 

"  Mediterranean  be  blessed !"  said  Flint  again.  "  Lirer- 
pool  or  the  Horn  more  likely.  'But,  Jack,  how  did  I  get 
aboard,  and  when?" 

"You  came  last  night.  The  landlord — Eupert  is  his 
name — brought  you  and  the  rest  off  in  a  yawl,  and  you 
were  as  drunk  as  a  beast,"  said  Guy  reproachfully,  at  the 
same  time  hoping  that  Flint  could  clear  himself  of  the 
charge. 

"No,  I  wasn't,"  answered  the  sailor  emphatically, 
"You  nor  nobody  else  ever  saw  me  drunk  on  a  pint  of 
brandy,  and  that's  all  I  took." 

"A  pint!"  cried  Guy  in  surprise — "a  whole  pint?" 

"Heavens  and  earth!  what's  the  matter?"  exclaimed 
Flint  sharply.  "  I  know  to  a  drop  how  much  I  can  stow 
away.  I  can  sail  on  and  never  keel  under  a  quart,  I 
was  doctored," 

"But  what  made  you  touch  it?  You  said  you 
wouldn't," 

"I  know  it,  but  I  had  to  do  it  to  settle  the  fight  we 
got  into.  The  landlord  said  if  we'd  take  a  drink  all 
around  he'd  call  it  square,  and  we  did,  I  tried  to  keep 
the  others  from  falling  into  a  trap,  and  fell  into  it 
myself.     How  did  you  come  here,  Jack?" 

"  I  shipped  aboard  this  vessel  because  I  was  told  you 
had  done  so," 

"What's  your  rate?" 

"The  agent  put  me  down  as  an  A,  B.,"  said  Guy 
hesitatingly, 

"He  did!"  exclaimed  Flint,  opening  his  eyes  in 
amazement,  "  Well,  you  are  a  soft  Tommy,  that's  a 
fact.  What  made  you  let  him  do  it?  You've  got 
yourself  into  hot  water," 

"I  know  it,"  replied  Guy,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
"I've  been  whipped  a  dozen  times  already,  and  the  sec- 


143  GUY  HARRIS. 

011(1  mate  says  he's  going  to  liaze  me  heantifully.  What 
does  that  mean,  Flint?" 

"  He  says  that,  does  he?"  cried  the  sailor.  "  Then  you 
had  best  jump  over  the  side  while  you've  got  the 
chance.  He's  going  to  haze  you,  is  he?  That  means 
that  he  won't  let  you  have  a  minute's  peace  as  long  as 
this  voyage  lasts,  and  that  you  won't  get  a  wink  of  sleep 
more  than  jnst  enough  to  keep  you  alive.  I  pity  you, 
my  boy." 

Guy  thought  he  stood  in  need  of  sympathy.  He 
knew  that  there  were  hard  times  before  him,  but  he 
had  never  dreamed  of  anything  so  dreadful  as  this. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

STILL   ANOTHER. 

LINT  looked  at  the  boy  for  a  moment  with 
an  expression  of  great  concern  on  his  hag- 
gard face,  and  continued: 
"  I  was  in  a  ship  once  when  the  whole  crew 
was  hazed,  and  I  wonkln't  go  through  it  again  for  no 
money.     It  was  awful." 

"But  why  did  you  submit  to  it?"  asked  Guy,  in  sur- 
prise. "  Were  there  not  enough  of  you  to  whip  the 
officers?" 

"  Yes,  but  that  would  have  been  mutiny;  and  if  we 
had  tried  it  Ave  would  have  been  shot  dov:n  like  dogs. 
There's  no  way  out  of  the  scrape.  Jack,  rinless  you  go 
overboard.     You're  held  as  tight  as  if  you  were  in  jail." 

"  But  I  haven't  yet  told  you  all,"  said  Guy,  who 
seemed  to  find  a  gloomy  satisfaction  in  talking  about  his 
ti'oubles.  "  The  first  mate  is  an  enemy  of  mine,  too. 
You  remembei",  do  you  not,  that  when  you  had  the  fight 
at  the  boarding-house  I  ran  out?.  Well,  I  went  to  the 
dock,  and  there  I  found  a  man  who  was  being  robbed. 
I  saved  him  by  calling  the  police,  and  through  me  one 
of  the  robbers  was  captured.  I  Avas  taken  to  thcAvatch- 
house  and  locked  up  until  the  next  morning,  Avhen  I 
appeared  as  a  Avitness  against  the  prisoner;  and  Avho  do 
you  suppose  he  turned  out  to  be?  I  Avas  never  more 
astonished  in  my  life.  Don't  say  a  Avord  about  it. 
Mint,  for  he  threatens  to  kill  me  if  I  lisp  it,  but  it  was 
our  first  mate.  He  says  he  is  going  to  make  me  think 
this  ship  is  a  frying-pan." 

"  And  he  will  keep  his  promise,  too;  you  can  bet  high 
on  that,"  said  Flint,  greatly  amazed.  "  Have  you  told 
me  the  Avorst  yet?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  have.     Haven't  I  told  you  enough?" 


144  <^l^y  HARRIS. 

"  I  should  say  so.  I  told  you  that  a  boy  who  goes  to 
sea  always  gets  more  kicks  than  ha'pence^  and  now  you 
find  that  I  spoke  the  truth." 

"But  is  there  nothing  I  can  do?''  asked  Guy  anx- 
ionsly. 

"  Nothing — nothing  in  the  world.  You  must  take 
your  kicks  and  say  not  a  word.  One  of  these  days, 
when  you  are  an  officer,  you  can  take  it  out  of  the  green 
hands  who  ship  under  you.  That's  your  only  chance  to 
get  even.'' 

Flint,  having  offered  Guy  all  the  consolation  in  his 
power — and  very  poor  consolation  it  was,  too — now  be- 
thought him  of  his  own  troubles.  Thrusting  his  hand 
under  his  shirt  he  drew  ont  his  '  monk-bag" — a  small 
leather  purse  which  was  suspended  from  his  neck  by  a 
string.  The  last  time  he  saw  the  purse  it  was  well  filled 
with  bills  and  coin,  but  now  it  was  empty. 

"I  have  been  eased  of  my  wealth,"  said  he.  "Do 
you  know  what  has  become  of  it  ?  I  had  eighty  dollars 
in  here,  and  never  spent  a  cent  of  it." 

"  Is  that  gone,  too?"  exclaimed  the  boy,  astonished  at 
the  calmness  with  which  his  friend  announced  the  dis- 
covery of  his  loss.  "  I  don't  know  any  thing  about  it, 
but  I  do  know  where  your  advance  went." 

With  this  Guy  begun,  and  hurriedly  described  the 
scene  that  had  been  enacted  when  Flint  and  his  insensi- 
ble companions  were  fia'st  brought  on  board,  dwelling 
witli  much  indignation  on  the  fact  that  he  had  seen 
Eupert  steal  his  friend's  money,  and  had  tried  to  make 
him  give  it  up,  but  had  only  succeded  in  bringing  down 
upon  himself  the  wrath  of  the  captain,  who  choked  him 
until  he  could  scarcely  see. 

When  Guy  finished,  he  looked  at  Flint,  expecting 
that  he  would  be  very  angry,  and  that  he  would  at  once 
seek  the  skipper  and  demand  satisfaction  for  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  had  been  treated;  but  the  sailor  did 
nothing  of  the  kind.  He  simply  smiled,  and  said,  with 
an  effort  to  ar)pear  cheerful: 

"  I've  seen  that  same  trick  done  more'n  once,  but  it 


UTILL  Af^OTHER.  145 

was  never  played  upon  me  before,  and  never  shall  be 
again/" 

"But  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"" asked  Guy. 

"What  can  I  do?" 

"  Why,  arrest  Euj^ert  for  robbery.  I  will  be  a  witness 
against  him."" 

"  Ha!'"  laughed  the  sailor.  "  He'd  bring  a  dozen  men 
to  prove  that  I  owed  him  every  cent  of  my  advance,  and 
more  too.  Besides,  there's  no  telling  where  Kupert  will 
be  by  the  time  our  cruise  is  ended."" 

"  But  you  need  not  go  on  this  voyage.  You  were  not 
legally  shipped.  You  don't  remember  of  signing  articles, 
do  you?"" 

"  Of  course  not;  but  it  will  do  no  good  to  make  a  fuss 
about  it,  for  the  old  man  will  say  I  had  too  much  liquor 
in  me  when  I  did  it  to  remember  anything." 

"  Suppose  he  does.  I  have  heard  my  father  say  that  a 
note  obtained  from  a  person  in  a  state  of  intoxication  is 
not  good  in  law,  and  the  same  principle  ought  to  apply 
in  this  case."" 

"Well,  it  won't,""  said  Flint.  "LaAV  was  made  for 
land-lubbers,  not  for  sailors.    Nobody  cares  for  a  sailor." 

Guy  begun  to  think  so,  too.  It  v/as  utterly  incompre- 
hensible to  him  that  men  who  had  been  kidnapped  and 
robbed,  as  Flint  and  his  companions  had  been,  must  put 
up  with  it,  having  no  redress  in  law.  He  could  not  see 
Avhy  it  was  so. 

Just  then  there  was  a  movement  in  one  of  the  bunks 
below,  and  presently  a  head  appeared  at  the  foot  of  the 
ladder.  Another  of  the  sailors  had  slept  oft'  the  effects 
of  the  drug,  and  was  coming  up  to  see  where  he  was. 
He  was  a  man  considerably  older  than  Flint,  and  his  hair 
and  Avhiskers  were  as  white  as  snow. 

Guy's  heart  bled  for  him.  That  a  man  at  his  time  of 
life  should  be  treated  worse  than  a  brute,  and  be  obliged 

to  submit  to  it  too,  it  was Guy's  indignation  got 

the  better  of  him,  and  he  could  only  wish  that  he  could 
be  the  master  of  the  vessel  for  an  hour  or  two.  "Wouldn't 
he  straighten  out  things  in  a  hurry  ? 


146  GUV  HARRIS. 

The  old  sailor  came  slowly  up  the  ladder,  taking  no 
notice  of  Guy  and  his  friend,  and  swept  his  eyes  over  the 
deck.  No  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  he  started  as  it  he 
had  seen  something  frightful,  took  another  good  look, 
and  his  face  turiied  ghastly  pale. 

''  What  ship  is  this?"  he  asked,  backing  down  the  lad- 
der a  step  or  two. 

"The  clipper  Morning  Light,  bound  ujj  the  Mediter- 
ranean," replied  Guy. 

'^Morning  Light  be  blessed!"  said  the  old  sailor.  " I 
know  her.     She's  the  Santa  Maria." 

Guy's  under  jaw  dropped,  and  the  swab  fell  from  his 
hand.     His  worst  fears  were  confirmed. 

He  did  not  have  time  to  digest  this  most  unwelcome 
piece  of  news;  for  the  second  mate,  thinking  that  he  was 
devoting  considerable  time  and  attention  to  swabbing 
that  particular  part  of  the  deck — for  he  had  kept 
steadily  at  work  during  his  conversation  with  Flint — 
came  forward  to  see  about  it.  He  might  have  said  or 
done  something  not  altogether  pleasant  to  Guy's  feel- 
ings, had  he  not  been  diverted  from  his  object  by  the 
discovery  of  the  two  sailors  on  the  ladder. 

"Well,  my  hearties,  you  have  slept  it  off  at  last,  have 
you?"  he  exclaimed.      "  Then  tumble  up  and  turn  to." 

Flint  and  the  gray-headed  sailor  promptly  obeyed  the 
order,  while  the  mate  went  into  the  forecastle  to  renew 
his  efforts  to  arouse  the  sleepers. 

This  time  he  was  successful.  One  by  one  the  poor  fel- 
lows came  up  the  ladder,  all  of  them,  as  Guy  noticed, 
wearing  the  same  expression  of  blank  amazement  which 
he  had  observed  on  Flint's  face,  and,  seeming  to  under- 
stand their  situation  as  well  as  if  it  had  been  explained 
to  them,  went  to  work  without  uttering  a  word  of  com- 
plaint. 

As  soon  as  the  deck  was  Avashed  down  the  ship  was  got 
under  way,  and,  when  studding-sails  had  been  set  alow 
and  aloft,  the  men  were  mustered  on  deck  and  divided 
into  watches.  This  done,  the  captain  stepped  before 
them  and  said,  in  a  stentorian  voice,  as  if  he  were  hailing 
the  mast-head: 


STILL  ANOTHER.  147 

''Now,  men,  we  have  shipped  together  for  a  long 
voyage,  and  whether  or  not  it  is  to  be  a  pleasant  one  de- 
pends entirely  on  yourselves.  You  all  claim  to  be  able 
seamen,  and  if  you  do  your  duty  cheerfully  and  without 
any  grumbling,  you  will  find  me  the  easiest  ship-master 
you  ever  sailed  under;  but  if  there's  any  nonsense  among 
you.  111  make  this  vessel  the  hottest  place  for  you  this 

side  of "     Here  the  captain  pointed  Avith  his  finger 

toward  the  deck,  indicating,  no  doubt,  the  regions  be- 
low. "The  rule  of  this  ship  is,  the  forenoon  watch 
below,  and  all  hands  on  deck  in  the  afternoon;  and  if 
that  regulation  is  changed,  it  will  be  your  fault.  Mark 
you,  now:  That  gentleman,  Mr.  Evans,  is  my  first  mate, 
and  that  one  there,  Mr.  Schwartz,  is  my  second  mate. 
I'm  the  captain;  and  when  you  have  taken  a  good  look 
at  me,  go  for'rd.     That's  all  I  have  to  say  to  you." 

"Go  below, the  watch," commanded  the  second  mate. 

Guy,  Flint,  the  gray-headed  sailor,  and  the  others  be- 
longing to  the  port  watch,  lost  no  time  in  obeying  the 
order.  There  were  none  among  them  who  felt  like  doing 
duty.  Guy  certainly  did  not,  for  he  was  so  completely 
exhausted  that  it  did  not  seem  possible  he  could  live  to 
draw  another  breath.  He  threw  himself  upon  his  hard 
bed,  drew  the  blankets  over  his  shoulders,  and  listened 
to  the  conversation  of  the  sailors,  who  now  had  leisure 
to  talk  over  their  situation. 

To  Guy's  great  surprise  there  was  not  one  of  them 
who  exhibited  the  least  indignation,  or  had  a  harsh 
word  to  say  against  the  author  of  their  troubles.  Some 
flung  themselves  helplessly  upon  their  bunks  as  if  it 
mattered  little  to  them  whether  they  ever  got  up  again 
or  not,  others  overhauled  their  bundles  or  chests  to  see 
if  any  of  their  dunnage  was  missing,  and  the  faces  of 
all  wore  a  look  of  sadness  and  dejection  that  was  pain- 
ful to  see.  The  furtive  glances  that  they  cast  about  the 
forecastle,  and  the  listening  attitudes  they  assumed 
whenever  any  unusual  sound  was  heard,  was  enough  to 
satisfy  Guy  that  they  were  all  aware  that  they  had  been 
shipped  aboard  the  very  vessel  they  had  been  most  anx- 
ious to  avoid. 


148  GUY  lUkRlS. 

"You  needn't  be  a  looking  and  a  listening  now, 
lads/'  said  the  gray-hairod  sailor,  whose  name  was  Up- 
ham,  and  who  had  made  one  voyage  in  the  ship.  "  The 
Santa  Maria  is  as  quiet  as  old  Davy's  locker  in  the  day- 
time, but  wait  until  midnight,  if  the  wind  freshens  a 
bit,  then  you'll  hear  something," 

"  The  creaking  and  groaning  of  the  cordage,  most 
likely,"  said  Guy.  "I've  heard  it  often  aboard  the  Os- 
sipee." 

"  You'd  better  take  a  sheep-shank  in  that  tongue  of 
yours,"  said  Upham  sharply.  "  When  you  have  sailed 
the  blue  water  till  your  hair  is  as  white  as  mine,  you'll 
know  more  than  you  do  now." 

So  saying  the  sailor  drew  the  blankets  over  him,  and 
Avith  a  sigh  of  resignation  turned  his  face  to  the  bulk- 
head and  prepared  to  go  to  sleep.  The  rest  of  the 
watch,  one  after  the  other,  followed  his  example,  and 
Guy  was  left  to  commune  with  his  own  thoughts.  He 
would  have  been  glad  to  know  just  how  and  when  the 
ghosts  of  the  Santa  Maria  were  accListomed  to  appear, 
so  that  he  might  be  on  the  lookout  for  them;  but  Up- 
ham did  not  seem  inclined  to  say  more  on  tlie  subject, 
and  he  had  shown  himself  to  be  such  a  gruff,  irritable 
old  fellow  that  Guy  did  not  care  to  ask  him  any  ques- 
tions, being  certain  of  getting  a  shai'p  and  unsatisfac- 
tory reply.  While  he  was  thinking  about  it  he  fell  into 
a  deep,  untroubled  slumber. 

Guy  that  day  learned  by  experience  what  "hazing" 
meant,  and  he  found,  too,  that  Flint's  description  of 
this  mode  of  punishment  was  not  in  the  least  exagger- 
ated. Long  before  night  came  he  was  so  nearly  ex- 
hausted that  the  fear  of  the  rope's  end,  with  which  the 
second  mate  constantly  threatened  him,  was  tlie  only 
thing  that  kept  him  moving. 

It  was  his  watch  below  from  six  to  eight  o'clock,  but 
he  was  too  tired  to  sleep,  and  the  time  was  so  short  that 
he  got  very  little  rest.  He  was  called  on  deck  again  at 
eight  o'clock,  and  kept  busy  until  midnight,  for  the 
wind  which  arose  at  sunset  fresliened  rapidly,  and  on 


STILL  ANOTHER.  149 

several  occasions  it  was  found  necessary  to  shorten  sail. 
Of  course  Gruy  could  lend  no  assistance  in  the  execu- 
tion of  this  Avork,  but  he  bustled  about  in  response  to 
every  order  that  was  issued,  and  only  succeeded  in  get 
ting  himself  into  trouble  by  his  misdirected  activity 
and  zeal. 

Once,  Avhen  he  was  sent  headlong  against  the  rail  by 
a  push  from  an  angry  sailor,  he  clung  to  it  for  a  mo- 
ment with  a  half-formed  resolution  in  his  mind  to 
jump  into  the  waves  wliich  were  tossing  the  vessel  so 
widely  about,  and  put  an  end  to  his  misery  at  once,  but 
prudence  stepped  in  in  time  to  prevent  him  from  doing 
anything  rash, 

"  The  voyage  can't  last  forever,"  thought  Guy,  trying 
hard  to  keep  up  his  courage.  "  We  must  reach  some 
port  at  last,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  after  we  are 
tied  up  to  the  wharf  I  shall  be  missing.  I  am  going  to 
desert.  I  have  money  enough  in  my  pocket  to  keep  me 
in  food  until  I  can  find  something  to  do.  I'd  rather  be 
a  wood-sawyer  than  a  sailor." 

Midnight  came  at  last,  and  the  starboard  watch  was 
called.  Guy  liappened  to  be  standing  near  the  heel  of 
the  bowsprit  as  they  came  up  the  ladder,  and  he  Avas  as- 
touislied  to  see  that  every  one  of  them  was  as  Avhite  as 
a  sheet.  When  the}^  reached  the  deck  they  all  cast  sus- 
picious glances  back  into  tlie  forecastle,  as  if  they  Avere 
afraid  that  there  might  be  something  following  them. 
Beyond  a  doubt  the  ghosts  had  manifested  themselves 
in  some  Avay.  So  thought  Guy,  and  his  opinion  Avas 
confirmed  by  some  Avhispered  Avords  he  overheard. 

"  What  is  it,  mate?"  asked  Flint  of  the  sailor  AvhoAvas 
the  first  to  reach  the  deck.  ''  Your  face  is  as  Avhitc  as 
a  landsman's  Sunday  shirt." 

"  And  maybe  your  face  Avill  be  Avhite,  too,  after  you 
have  been  doAvn  there  a  fcAv  minutes,"  answered  the 
man,  avIio  was  the  gray-haired  sailor's  crony,  and  aa'Iio, 
like  him,  had  made  one  vovage  in  the  Santa  Maria. 
"  Where's  XJpham?" 

'"Here,"  replied  the  oAvner  of  that  name.  "Have 
you  seen  'em?" 


150  GUY  HARRIS. 

"No;  but  I've  heard  'em.     He'll  be  uj)  directly/^ 

"  He!     Who?"  asked  Flint  uneasily. 

"AVhy,  the  ghost  of  the  man  who  was  lost  overboard 
a  few  years  ago,"  said  Upham.  "  You  see,  one  night, 
during  a  gale,  some  of  the  crew  were  sent  aloft  to  cut 
away  the  main  topsail,  for  it  was  blowing  too  hard  to 
furl  it.  One  man  was  lost  overboard — he  was  blown 
fairly  off  the  foot-rope,  they  tell  me — and  every  night 
after  that  his  ghost  used  to  get  up  on  the  main  topsail 
yard  and  sing  out:  '  Stand  from  under!'  I  never  heard 
him  speak,  but  I've  seen  him  often." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Upham's  crony.  "  He  looks  like  a 
rat." 

''But  what  did  you  see  in  the  forecastle?"  asked 
Flint. 

"  Nothing;  but  we  heard  'em  talking  and  going  on. 
They're  in  the  hold  now." 

"  Go  below,  you  lubbers!"  shouted  the  second  mate. 
''  This  is  the  third  time  I  have  spoken  to  you,  and  if 
you  don't  pay  some  attention  I'll  start  you  down  faster 
than  you  want  to  go." 

The  men  belonging  to  the  port  watch  ran  quickly 
down  the  ladder  to  avoid  the  handspike  which  the  offi- 
cer began  to  swing  about  in  close  proximity  to  their 
heads. 

Gruy  was  the  last  to  leave  the  deck.  Tired  and  utterly 
discouraged  as  he  was  he  would  rather  have  spent  the 
rest  of  the  night  in  work  than  go  into  the  forecastle. 
He  scouted  the  idea  of  ghosts,  but  when  such  men  as 
Flint  and  Upham  showed  signs  of  fear,  he  believed  that 
it  could  not  be  without  good  reason,  and  that  there  must 
be  something  to  be  afraid  of.  He  trembled  violently, 
and  his  face  was  as  pale  as  those  of  the  rest  of  the  watch. 

"Aha!  see  him  now,  mates!"  exclaimed  the  gray- 
headed  sailor  pointing  to  Guy  as  he  came  down  the 
ladder.  "  Here's  the  chap  that  knows  more'n  all  the 
rest  of  us  put  together! — a  regular  sea-lawyer.  Now 
look  at  him!" 

"Listen!  listen!"  said  one  of  the  watch  suddenly. 


STILL  ANOTHER.  151 

The  sailors  all  held  their  breath,  and  a  silence  deep 
as  that  of  the  grave  reigned  in  the  forecastle.  This  con- 
tinued for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  a  low,  moaning 
sound,  like  the  wail  of  some  one  in  intense  bodily  agon}^ 
fell  upon  their  ears  with  startling  distiiictness.  It 
seemed  to  come  to  them  through  the  bulk-head  that 
separated  the  forecastle  from  the  hold. 

Guy  listened  in  great  amazement.  The  cold  chills 
begun  to  creep  all  over  him,  and  his  face  grew  a  shade 
paler  than  ever. 

"  Don^t  be  afraid,  my  son,^'  said  Upliam  mockingly. 
"  It's  only  the  creaking  and  groaning  of  the  rigging. 
You've  heard  it  often,  so  it  needn't  scare  you." 

"No,  it  isn't  the  rigging,"  said  Guy;  "it's  the  boxes 
of  freight  rubbing  against  one  another." 

"  Well,  1  never  knew  before  that  boxes  of  freight 
could  talk,"  said  one  of  the  watch.  "  Just  listen  to 
that!" 

"  Oh,  heavens!  I  can't  stand  it!  I  can't  stand  it!" 
came  in  muffled  tones  from  tiie  hold.  "  Take  it  oif,  or 
I  shall  die!" 

This  was  followed  by  a  low,  murmuring  sound,  as  of 
several  persons  in  earnest  conversation,  and  tben  all  was 
still. 

Guy's  philosophy  was  not  proof  against  such  a  mani- 
festation as  this.  There  was  something  in  the  hold  be- 
yond a  doubt,  and  what  else  could  it  be  but  the  ghostly 
crew  the  Santa  Maria  was  supposed  to  carry? 

"  There's  been  awful  things  done  aboard  this  craft," 
said  Upham,  shaking  his  gray  head  solemnly.  "JSTobody 
knows  how  many  poor  fellows  have  been  knocked  over- 
board on  dark  nights  by  them  two  mates," 

"  Great  Scott!"  soliloquized  Guy,  jumping  into  his 
bunk  and  drawing  the  blankets  over  his.  head.  "I 
never  thought  of  that.  Who  knows  but  that  the  first 
mate  may  be  Avatching  for  a  chance  to  knock  me  over- 
board?" 

The  old  sailor's  words  had  excited  a  train  of  serious 
reflections  in  Guy's  mind.     A  man  who  could  deliber- 


153  GUY  HARRIS. 

ately  attack  another  with  the  intention  of  robbing  and 
throwing  him  into  tlie  harbor,  would  be  none  too  good 
to  make  an  end  of  the  boy  who  had  given  evidence 
against  him.  There  was  but  one  thing  he  could  do  in 
his  helpless  situation,  he  told  himself,  and  that  w\is  to 
watch  the  mate  closely  and  be  in  readiness  to  seize  the 
first  opportunity  to  desert  the  vessel. 

The  night  wore  slowly  away,  and  another  miserable 
day  dawned  for  the  runaway.  He  was  kept  very  busy, 
for  the  mates  always  found  some  work  that  he  could  do, 
but  still  he  had  leisure  to  observe  that  there  was  some- 
thing unusual  going  on  among  the  men.  They  gathered 
in  little  groups  to  converse  when  the  officers  Avere  not 
looking  at  them,  and  Uj)ham  talked  privately  with 
every  one  of  the  crew,  Guy  alone  excepted.  He  seemed 
to  be  urging  some  sort  of  a  movement  among  the  sailors, 
but  what  it  was  Guy  could  not  find  out,  for  no  one,  not 
even  Flint,  would  enlighten  him. 

Was  it  a  mutiny?  Guy  hoped  it  was,  and  placed  a 
handspike  where  he  could  seize  it  at  a  moment's  warn- 
ing. If  force  were  resorted  to,  he  would  get  in  at  least 
a  blow  or  two  in  return  for  the  barbarous  treatment  to 
which  he  had  been  subjected. 

Nothing  was  done  until  three  o'clock,  and  then  the 
captain  came  on  deck  as  usual  to  smoke  his  after-dinner 
cigar.  His  appearance  seemed  to  be  the  signal  the 
sailors  were  waiting  for.  They  dropped  their  work  at 
once  and,  headed  by  Upham,  marched  aft  in  a  body. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE    GHOSTS    OF   THE   SANTA   MAEIA. 

ALLOO  !  what  do  yon  want  here,  you  hib- 
bers?"  demanded  the  captain,  as  the  sailors, 
headed  by  Upham,  ranged  themselves  on  the 
quarter-deck  in  front  of  him  and  took  oif 
their  caps.  "I  don't  allow  any  such  doings  as  this 
aboard  my  ship.     Go  for'ard  where  you  belong." 

"  TTe  haven't  come  for  any  mischief,  cap'n,"  said 
Upham,  who  had  been  chosen  to  do  the  talking  for  his 
companions.  "We're  all  sailor  men,  and  know  our 
duty." 

"  Then  go  for'ard  and  do  it, "said  the  skipper  angrily. 
''Away  you  go." 

"  AYe're  ready  to  obey  orders,  cap'n,  and  you  sha'n't 
have  a  word  of  fault  to  find  with  none  of  us,  if  you  will 
only  think  up  some  way  to  git  rid  of  them  other  fellows. 
It's  more  than  human  liesh  and  blood  can  stand  to  have 
them  aboard  here." 

"What  other  fellows?" 

"  Why,  them  in  the  hold  that  keeps  up  such  a  wailing 
and  groaning  all  the  while." 

"  Get  out  o'  this!"  shouted  the  captain,  looking  about 
the  deck  as  if  he  were  searching  for  something  to  throw 
at  U]Dham's  head.  "  I've  heard  enough.  You  pulled 
the  wool  over  the  eyes  of  a  lot  of  soft  Tommys  on  shore 
and  kept  us  waiting  three  days  for  a  crew,  but  you  can't 
talk  any  of  your  ghost  stories  into  me.  Go  to  your 
duty. " 

"  We've  done  our  duty  since  we've  been  aboard, 
cap'n,"  returned  Upham,  "  and  we're  ready  to  keep  on 
doing  it  if  you  will  only  get  rid  of  that  other  crew,  but 
not  a  tack  or  sheet  do  we  touch  till  this  thing  has  been 
looked  into.     We've  all  made  up  our  minds  to  that." 


154  GUY  HARRIS. 

"  Oh^  you're  going  to  mutiny,  are  you?"  roared  the 
skipjjer,  his  face  growing  purple  with  fury.  "  I'll  show 
you  how  I  deal  with  such  men.  Mr.  Schwartz,  just  step 
down  into  the  cabin  and  bring  up  my  pistols." 

The  second  mate  started  in  obedience  to  the  order, 
but  the  sailors,  who  were  drawn  up  in  line  across  the 
deck,  moved  forward  as  one  man,  and  stood  between 
him  and  the  companion-way. 

Things  were  getting  serious,  and  Guy,  who  stood  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  crowd,  began  edging  his  way  toward 
the  bow.  Was  he  going  after  his  handspike?  No;  he 
intended  to  dodge  into  the  forecastle,  where  he  would 
be  safe.  If  the  captain  was  going  to  use  fire-arms  to 
bring  his  crew  to  their  senses,  he  did  not  want  to  be 
found  in  the  way  of  the  bullets. 

The  skipper's  actions  indicated  that  he  was  in  just  the 
right  humor  to  do  something  desperate.  He  stamped 
about  the  deck  and  swore  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  but  it 
was  plain  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  bluster,  he  was  cowed 
by  the  bold  front  of  his  crew.  When  he  paused  to  take 
breath,  Upham  spoke. 

"  We  don't  want  to  go  agin  yer,  cap'n,"  said  he, 
''  and  we  don't  want  to  talk  no  ghost  stories  into  you, 
neither.  All  we  ask  of  you  is  to  come  down  into  the 
forecastle  and  listen  to  'em  with  your  own  ears.  I've 
heard  'em,  and  I  hain't  a  boy  to  be  scared  at  nothing.  I 
snufPed  salt  water  before  you  ever  saw  daylight." 

The  captain  seemed  on  the  point  of  making  an  angry 
reply,  but  just  then  the  second  mate,  after  holding  a 
short  consultation  Avith  the  first  officer,  stepped  up  and 
said  something  to  him  in  a  wliis2)er.  The  sailors  could 
not  hear  what  it  was,  but  they  saw  the  skipper's  face 
brighten  at  once." 

"It  may  be  possible,"  said  he,  aloud.  "I  did  not 
think  of  that.  Come  on,  men;  I'll  soon  get  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  matter." 

The  captain  led  the  way  into  the  forecastle,  and  the 
sailors  flocked  down  the  ladder  after  him,  Guy  bring- 
ing up  the  rear. 


THE  GHOSTS  OF  THE  SANTA  MARIA.  155 

"  Now  fetch  on  your  ghosts,"  said  the  skipper,  seat- 
ing himself  on  one  of  the  bunJis. 

"  Avast  heaving  a  minute,  cap'n,  and  you'll  see  'em," 
said  Upham. 

The  silence  that  followed  continued  so  long  that  the 
sailors  began  to  get  impatient,  but  not  so  the  captain. 
The  few  words  the  second  mate  whispered  in  his  ear  had 
aroused  some  suspicions  in  his  mind,  and  he  was  re- 
solved that  they  should  either  be  confirmed  or  entirely 
set  at  rest  before  he  left  the  forecastle. 

Ten  minutes  passed,  and  then  the  groans  that  had 
startled  the  crow  the  night  before  were  distinctly 
heard,  followed  by  the  low  murmur  of  conversation. 
The  captain  seemed  very  much  annoyed.  He  arose 
from  his  seat,  and  placing  his  ear  close  against  the  bulk- 
head, stood  there  listening  intently  until  the  sounds 
ceased. 

"They're  there  sure  enough,  cap'n,"  said  Upham. 
"You  see  that  we  wasn't  complaining  of  nothing." 

"  I  am  satisfied  of  it  now,"  was  the  reply.  "Get  lan- 
terns, a  couple  of  you,  and  all  the  port  watch  come  with 
me  into  the  hold.  Bring  handspikes  every  mother's  son 
of  you." 

"  Handspikes  won't  do  no  good,"  growled  Flint,  after 
the  captain  had  ascended  from  the  forecastle. 

"No,"  assented  Upham.  "I  never  yet  heard  of  a 
ghost  being  knocked  down  and  put  in  irons." 

Judging  by  the  expression  on  the  faces  of  the  sailors, 
there  was  not  a  man  in  the  port  watch  who  did  not  wish 
that  somebody  besides  himself  had  been  called  ujDon  to 
accompany  the  captain.  The  alarm  that  j^revailed 
among  them  was  contagious,  and  even  Guy  began  to 
give  way  to  it.  He  believed,  with  Flint  and  Upham, 
that  there  was  something  in  the  hold  that  could  not  be 
overcome  with  weapons,  and  when  he  went  aft  with  his 
watch,  armed  like  the  rest  with  a  handspike,  he  sta- 
tioned himself  at  the  heels  of  the  captain  with  the  de- 
termination to  keep  close  to  him.  He  had  faith  in  the 
skipper's  courage  and  prowess,  and,  moreover^  he  saw 


•  156  GUY  HARRIS. 

that  the  latter  carried  pistols  in  his  pockets.  Pistols 
were  better  than  handspikes  any  day^  even  in  an  en- 
counter with  ghosts. 

In  obedience  to  the  orders  of  the  mate,  one  of  the 
hatches  was  opened,  and  the  captain  descended  into  the 
hold,  followed  by  the  port  watch.  Slowly  they  made 
their  way  along  a  narrow  passage  toward  the  place  where 
the  water-butts  were  stowed,  and  when  they  came 
within  sight  of  them  they  stopped,  astonished  by  the 
scene  presented  to  their  gaze.  Some  of  the  sailors  took 
Just  one  look,  and  then  uttered  exclamations  of  alarm 
and  turned  to  retreat.  Guy  would  have  done  the  same, 
only  he  could  not.  He  was  so  badly  frightened  that  he 
could  neither  move  nor  speak. 

A  portion  of  the  cargo  had  been  broken  out,  forming 
a  clear  space  about  six  feet  square  and  as  many  feet 
deep,  and  in  it  Avere  seated  the  objects  that  had  excited 
his  alarm — not  ghosts,  but  living  men,  who  held  cocked 
pistols  in  their  hands,  and  whose  faces  denoted  that 
they  were  anything  but  pleased  at  the  discovery  of  their 
hiding-place.  In  the  center  of  this  clear  space  was  a 
fourth  man,  lying  flat  on  his  back,  and  pinned  down  by 
a  box  of  goods  which  had  doubtless  been  thrown  upon 
him  by  the  lurching  of  the  vessel.  The  box  was  so 
large  and  heavy,  and  his  companions  had  so  little  room 
to  work  in,  that  they  had  not  been  able  to  release  him; 
and  there  the  poor  fellow  had  lain  for  long  hours  suffer- 
ing intense  agony,  which  was  increased  by  every  lurch 
the  vessel  gave.  He  it  was  who  had  given  utterance  to 
the  groans  which  had  so  greatly  alarmed 'the  crew.  The 
men,  whoever  they  were,  had  come  on  board  prepared 
for  a  long  voyage,  for  they  had  brought  with  them  a 
large  bag  of  provisions,  and  had  tapped  one  of  the 
butts  to  get  a  supply  of  water. 

"  Well,^''  said  the  captain,  as  soon  as  the  volley  of  ex- 
clamations which  arose  from  the  sailors  had  subsided, 
so  that  he  could  make  himself  heard,  "this  thing  has 
turned  out  just  as  I  expected  it  would.  You^re  the  lads 
that  robbed  the  jewelry  store,  I  suppose." 


THE  GHOSTS  OF  THE  SANTA  MARIA.  15? 

"Why,  so  the}^  are!"  exclaimed  Guy,  Avho  now  com- 
13rehended  the  matter  perfectly;  "  I  knew  they  couldn't 
be  ghosts." 

"  Who  and  what  we  are  is  no  business  of  yours,"  an- 
swered one  of  the  men  grufiiy. 

"It  isn't,  'eh?"  exclaimed  the  captain.  "I  am  mas- 
ter of  this  ship,  if  you  only  knew  it.  Come  up  out  of 
that." 

"No,  we'll  not  go  up,  and  if  you  know  when  you  are 
well  off  you'll  not  come  down  to  us,  either.  AYe  are 
all  armed,  as  you  see,  and  the  first  man  who  makes  a 
move  to  lay  a  hand  on  us  win  sJ'et  a  bullet  through  his 
head." 

"  Cap'n,"  said  Flint,  who  was  brave  enough  now  that 
he  knew  they  had  live  men  and  not  dead  ones  to  deal 
with,  "just  say  the  word  and  I'll  junq)  down  there  and 
toss  that  fellow  out  before  he  knows  wdiat  is  the  matter 
with  him." 

"No,  no,"  said  the  captain.  "Stay  where  you  are. 
I  know  how  to  deal  with  'em.  Where  are  you  lads 
going?"  he  added,  holding  one  of  the  lanterns  over  the 
robbers'  hiding-place  and  taking  a  good  survey  of  it. 

"  AVe're  going  wherever  the  ship  goes,"  was  the  surly 
reply. 

"  Well,  you'll  have  a  good  long  ride.  This  cargo  will 
not  be  broken  out  under  seven  or  eight  months.  Have 
you  got  provisions  enough  to  last  you  that  long?" 

"  You  needn't  lose  no  sleep  in  worrying  about  that." 

"I  won't,  for  it's  your  lookout,  not  mine.  Hadn't 
you  better  let  me  rig  a  whip  and  hoist  that  box  off  that 
man?     It's  a  pity  to  keep  him  in  that  f  x." 

"  And  after  you  get  it  hoisted  oif  you  would  try  to 
come  some  of  your  sailor  tricks  over  us,"  said  the  rob- 
ber. "  We  ain't  quite  so  green  as  that.  You  just  go 
off  and  attend  to  your  own  business.  We'll  take  care 
of  him." 

"All  right.  Mark  you  now,  my  fine  lads,  I'm  going 
to  close  and  batten  down  my  hatches,  and  they  sha'n't 
be  opened  again  until  we  reach  port,  no  matter  Avhat 


158  CUY  HARRIS. 

happens.  If  the  ship  goes  to  the  bottom  you  go  with 
her,  and  without  a  chance  to  save  yourselves." 

Tlie  skijiper  turned  and  crawled  back  toward  the 
hatchway  as  he  said  this,  and  the  watch  followed  him. 
They  found  their  companions  on  deck  impatiently 
awaiting  their  return,  and  when  they  heard  what  the 
captain  had  to  say  to  his  mates,  and  learned  that  the 
men  in  the  hold  were  not  ghosts,  as  they  had  supposed, 
but  a  gang  of  burglars,  who,  in  sjsite  of  the  vigilance 
of  the  watch,  had  succeeded  in  smuggling  themselves 
on  board  before  the  ship  left  port,  their  surprise  knew 
no  bounds.  Their  faces,  too,  as  well  as  the  long,  deep 
sighs  which  came  up  from  their  broad  chests  showed 
that  their  relief  was  fully  as  great  as  their  astonish- 
ment. 

Guy  and  the  four  men  he  had  found  on  board  the 
Santa  Maria  when  he  first  joined  her,  knew  more  about 
the  matter  than  anybody  else,  except  the  oflBcers,  they 
having  been  on  deck  while  the  policeman  was  talking 
with  the  captain  about  the  burglars.  They  were  obliged 
to  repeat  all  they  had  heard  over  and  over  again,  first 
to  one  and  then  to  another,  and  Guy  always  wound  up 
by  declaring  that  that  was  the  way  all  ghost  stories 
turned  out — they  could  be  explained  easily  enough  if 
people  would  only  take  the  trouble  to  look  into  them. 

''Avast  there  I"  said  Uj)ham,  who  happened  to  over- 
hear this  last  remark.  "  You  ain't  done  with  the  old 
Santa  Maria  yet.  You  hain^t  seen  the  ghost  who  gets  up 
on  the  main  tojasail-yard  every  night  during  a  gale  and 
says: 

"  Stand  from  under!" 

By  the  time  the  hatches  had  all  been  closed  and 
securely  fastened,  the  captain  came  up  out  of  his  cabin, 
where  he  had  been  busy  with  his  chart.  A  few  rapid 
orders,  which  Guy,  as  usual,  failed  to  comprehend,  were 
issued,  and  the  ship  stood  ofi  on  another  course. 

"  The  old  man  isn't  letting  grass  grow  under  his  feet," 
said  Flint  to  Guy,  as  he  came  down  out  of  the  top. 
"  He^s  going  to  get  rid  of  them  fellows." 


THE  GHOSTS  OF  THE  SANTA  MARIA.  159 

"What  is  lie  going  to  do  with  them?"  asked  Guy. 

"  He's  going  to  put  'em  asliore.  We're  heading  for 
some  port  now." 

"Are  we?'' exclaimed  Guy,  highly  delighted  at  this 
piece  of  news.  "  I  wish  we  were  there  now/'  he  added, 
sinking  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  and  looking  all  about  to 
make  sure  that  there  was  no  one  within  hearing.  ''  You 
wouldn't  see  me  in  half  an  hour  from  this  time.  I  am 
going  to  desert." 

"And  I  don't  blame  you,"  said  Flint. 

"  You  will  go  with  me,  won't  you  ?" 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  the  sailor;  "find 
another  ship?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  Guy  emphatically.  "If  I  ever  put 
my  foot  on  the  deck  of  another  vessel  as  a  foremast 
hand,  I  hope  she  will  go  to  the  bottom  w^ith  me.  I  am 
going  to  stay  ashore;  you  may  depend  upon  that." 

"  Then  I  don't  see  what  good  it  will  do  me  to  go  with 
you.  Jack.  I'd  have  to  ship  again  at  once,  for  I've  got 
no  money,  and  I  couldn't  find  any  work  to  do  ashore, 
not  being  a  landsman.  I  might  as  well  stay  here.  JSTow 
that  I  knov/  we've  got  no  ghosts  aboard  I  shall  like  the 
Santa  Maria  as  well  as  any  other  ship." 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  go  alone,  I  suppose," said  Guy. 
"I  don't  like  to  leave  you,  Flint,  but  I  can't  stand  this 
any  longer.  I  am  black  and  blue  all  over  from  the 
poundings  I  have  received." 

"And  you're  getting  as  thin  as  the  royal  yard,"  said 
Flint.  "  You'll  be  bait  for  the  crows  if  you  stay  aboard 
this  craft  till  we  reach  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  that's 
where  we're  bound." 

"  The  Sandwich  Islands  I"  repeated  Guy.  "  I  thought 
we  were  going  up  the  Mediterranean." 

"  Oh,  that's  only  one  of  the  jDack  of  lies  that  shipping 
agent  told  you,"  said  the  sailor,  with  a  laugh.  "If  you 
had  looked  at  the  articles  you  signed,  you  would  have 
found  out  all  about  it.  We're  going  to  discharge  our 
cargo  at  San  Francisco,  take  another  from  there  to  Hon- 
olulu, and  fill  up  again  for  New  Orleans.  Where  we 
shall  go  after  that  I  don't  know," 


160  GUY  HARRIS. 

^'^  We're  going  round  the  Horn,  I  suppose?" 

'•"Of  course.  They  don't  take  ships  over  the  isthmus 
yet.- 

''Then  I  understand  why  Smith  made  me  buy  so 
many  thick  clothes.  He  said  ]3erhaps  I'd  see  some  cohl 
weather. " 

"  And  so  you  will,"  said  Flint.  "  I'll  help  you  to  get 
off  if  I  can,  but  I  don't  see  the  use  of  going  with  you. 
I'd  have  to  leave  you  again,  unless  you  would  go  to  sea 
in  some  other  vessel." 

"And  that  I'll  never  do.     I'll  starve  on  shore  first." 

"  And  I'll  stay  aboard  the  Santa  Maria.  Have  you 
got  any  money?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  sixty  dollars  and  a  little  over.  Do  you 
want  some  of  it?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  the  sailor  quickly.  "I  sha'n't 
need  any  while  I  am  at  sea,  but  you'll  need  it  ashore. 
Here,"  he  added,  taking  off  his  monk-bag  and  handing 
it  to  Guy,  "keep  this  to  remember  me  by.  Put  your 
money  in  it,  and  tie  it  around  your  neck,  and  you  won't 
be  likely  to  lose  it.  You  can't  take  your  bundle  with 
you,  of  course,  so  when  we  reach  port  you  had  better  put 
on  another  suit  of  clothes  under  those  you've  got  on  now, 
and  stow  away  all  the  dunnage  about  you  that  you  can 
without  making  yourself  look  too  fat.  If  yon  put  on  too 
much  you  miglit  as  well  try  to  leave  the  ship  with  a  chest 
on  your  shoulder,  for  the  mates  will  know  in  a  minute 
what  you're  up  to.  They're  posted  in  all  sailor  tricks. 
We  sha'n't  be  long  in  port,  so  you  had  better  be  in  a 
hurry.  Whatever  you  do,  don't  be  caught,  or  you'll  sup 
sorrow  with  a  spoon  as  big  as  a  water-butt."' 

This  made  Guy  open  his  eyes.  He  had  not  expected 
to  find  any  serious  obstacle  in  his  way.  If  the  ship  came 
to  anchor  in  the  harbor  to  which  they  were  bound, 
especially  if  they  arrived  there  during  the  night,  it 
would  be  but  little  trouble  for  him  to  drop  overboard 
from  the  fore-chains  and  swim  ashore,  provided  the  dis- 
tance were  not  too  great;  and  if  she  were  made  fast  to 
the  dock,  it  would  be  still  less  trouble  to  leave  her.     But 


THE  GHOSTS  OF  THE  SANTA  MARIA.  161 

now  he  knew  that  the  officers  would  be  on  the  watch, 
that  they  well  understood  every  device  that  could  be  re- 
sorted to  by  deserters,  and  that  if  he  were  caught  in  the 
act  of  leaving  the  vessel,  the  treatment  he  had  hitherto 
received  would  be  mild  in  comparison  with  the  punish- 
ment that  would  be  inflicted  upon  him.  The  thought 
almost  took  Guy's  breath  away,  but  it  did  not  discourage 
him.  He  had  fully  made  up  his  mind  to  desert  the  ves- 
sel if  it  were  within  the  l)ounds  of  possibility,  and  was 
not  to  be  easily  frightened  from  his  purpose. 

He  conferred  with  Flint  at  every  opjiortunity,  and 
made  all  necessary  preparations,  selecting  the  clothes  he 
intended  to  take  with  him,  and  tying  them  up  in  a  sep- 
arate bundle  together  with  the  "Boy  Trappers, ^^  the 
book  that  belonged  to  Henry  Stewart.  This  book  Guy 
had  carefully  preserved.  It  was  the  only  thing  he  had 
left  of  the  hunting  outfit  which  he  had  brought  Avith  him 
from  home. 

On  the  third  day  after  the  discovery  of  the  robbers  in 
the  hold,  land  was  in  sight  once  more,  and  at  nine  o^clock 
in  the  evening  the  Santa  Maria  entered  the  port  toward 
which  the  captain  had  shaped  her  course,  and  was  made 
fast  to  the  wharf. 

Guy  did  not  know  what  the  name  of  the  toAvn  was  or 
what  country  it  was  in,  and  he  did  not  think  to  inquire. 
All  he  cared  for  was  to  get  safely  oft'  the  vessel;  he  could 
get  his  bearings  afterward. 

As  soon  as  the  ship  touched  the  dock  the  captain 
jumped  ashore,  and  hurried  away  in  the  darkness — he 
was  going  after  some  officers  to  arrest  the  men  in  the 
hold,  Flint  said — and  Guy  ran  into  the  forecastle  to 
make  ready  for  his  attempt  at  desertion.  He  hastily 
pulled  on  the  clothes  he  had  selected,  secured  the  "  Boy 
Trappers"  about  his  person,  and  having  examined  his 
monk-bag  to  make  sure  tnat  his  money  was  safe,  pre- 
sented himself  before  his  friend,  who  nodded  approv- 
ingly. 

'•'It's  all  right,"  said  the  sailor.  "You'll  pass  in  the 
dark,     Now  stand  here  by  the  side,  and  I'll  go  aft  and 


162  GUY  HARRIS. 

keep  an  eye  on  the  mates.  When  I  see  that  they  are  not 
looking  toward  you,  I'll  cough  this  way — here  Flint  gave 
an  illustration — and  do  you  jump  ashore,  and  run  as  if 
Old  Nep  was  after  you  with  his  three-pronged  pitchfork. 
I  can't  shake  hands  with  you  for  fear  they'll  see  me  and 
suspect  something;  but  you  won't  forget  me,  will  you, 
Jackr 

" Never,"  replied  Guy.  ''You  have  been  very  kind 
to  me,  and  I  wouldn't  leave  you  under  any  other 
circumstances."' 

Flint,  who  did  not  care  to  prolong  the  interview, 
walked  leisurely  aft,  and  Guy  leaned  over  the  side  and 
impatiently  waited  for  the  siguai. 


CHAPTEK    XVIII. 

ON      SHORE      AGAIN". 

OE  TEN  minutes — it  seemed  an  hour  to  liim 

— Guy  stood  there  with  his  hands  on  the  side 

waiting  for  the  signal  which  was  to  tell  him 

that  the  moment  had  arrived  for  him  to  make 

a  strike  for  his  liberty  ;  but  Flint  did  not  give  it. 

Guy  began  to  get  impatient.  He  looked  about  the 
deck,  but  although  the  crew  were  in  sight,  none  of  them 
seemed  to  be  paying  any  attention  to  him  or  his  move- 
ments. The  first  mate  Avas  standing  at  the  head  of  the 
companion  ladder,  gazing  toward  the  light-house  at  the 
entrance  of  the  harbor,  and  the  second  mate,  the  one  he 
most  feared,  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  But  for  all  that, 
he  was  close  by,  and  on  the  watch,  too.  Flint  saw  him, 
and  that  was  the  reason  he  did  not  give  the  signal  for 
which  Guy  was  so  impatiently  waiting. 

The  vigilant  officer,  who  seemed  to  see  everything  that 
took  jjlace  on  board  the  vessel,  knew  Guy's  plans  as  Avell 
as  he  knew  them  himself,  for  he  had  crouched  at  the 
head  of  the  ladder  and  looked  down  into  the  forecastle 
while  Guy  was  prej)aring  for  his  attemj^t  at  escape. 

The  mate's  first  thought  was  to  seize  him  as  he  came 
on  deck  and  shake  him  out  of  his  superfluous  clothing; 
but  after  a  little  reflection  he  decided  to  adopt  another 
mode  of  punishment.  He  would  wait  until  Guy  was 
about  to  leave  the  ship  and  then  give  him  a  lesson  that 
he  would  remember  as  long  as  he  lived. 

As  Flint  turned  away  after  taking  leave  of  his  young 
friend,  he  saw  the  mate  crouching  behind  the  long  boat, 
holding  in  his  hand  a  stick  of  wood  which  he  had 
caught  up  as  he  passed  the  galley. 

The  sailor  knew  in  an  instant  why  he  was  there, 
and  would  have   turned  back  to  warn   Guy,  but  the 


164  GUY  HARRIS. 

officer,  divining  liis  intention,  made  an  impatient  gest- 
ure with  liis  hand,  and  Flint  was  obliged  to  pass  on. 

Guy  waited  and  listened,  growing  more  and  more  im- 
patient, until  at  last  he  could  no  longer  control  himself. 
The  wharf  was  almost  within  reach  of  him,  and  if  his 
feet  were  once  firmly  planted  upon  it,  his  escape  could 
be  easily  accomplished.  A  few  quick  bounds  would 
carry  him  out  of  sight  in  the  darkness,  and  if  he  were 
followed,  he  could  creep  into  some  alley  or  door-way 
and  remain  there  until  the  danger  was  past.  He  re- 
solved to  try  it. 

He  put  one  leg  over  the  rail,  paused  an  instant  to 
make  sure  that  the  movement  had  not  attracted  attention, 
then  threw  the  other  over,  and  lowered  himself  slowly 
toward  the  wharf.  His  feet  had  almost  touched  it,  and 
Guy  was  already  congratulating  himself  on  his  escape, 
when  a  stick  of  stove-wood,  propelled  with  all  the  force 
of  a  sinewy  arm,  whistled  through  the  air,  and  striking 
the  rail  within  an  inch  of  his  head,  bounded  off,  and  fell 
into  the  Avater.  Had  it  struck  him,  as  the  mate  fully 
intended  it  should  when  he  sent  it  Hying  from  his  hand, 
it  would  have  knocked  him  senseless. 

While  Guy  was  looking  all  around  to  see  where  the 
missile  came  from,  the  officer  arose  from  his  conceal- 
ment and  showed  himself. 

"That  was  a  pretty  good  shot,"  said  he,  ''but  the 
next  one  will  come  closer  than  that.  Crawl  back,  you 
lubber.  Now,"  he  added,  as  the  boy  tremblingly 
obeyed,  "go  below,  and  stay  there  till  I  call  you." 

As  Guy  started  off  in  obedience  to  the  order,  the  mate 
hastened  his  movements  by  aiming  a  blow  at  him  with 
his  fist,  and  following  it  up  by  a  vicious  kick  with  his 
heavy  boot;  but  the  boy,  having  learned  to  be  always  on 
the  lookout  for  these  favors,  nimbly  eluded  them  both. 

''I  wish  I  were  a  man  for  a  few  minutes,"  thought 
Guy,  as  he  ran  down  the  ladder  into  the  forecastle  and 
began  pulling  off  his  extra  clothing;  '*  I'd  settle  with 
you,  Mr.  Schwartz,  and  pay  you  back  in  your  own  coin. 
I've  failed  once,  but  I'll  not  fail  the  next  time  I  try  it. 


OJ\r  SffOkE  AGAIN,  165 

ni  have  more  time  at  San  Francisco,  for  Flint  sa3^s 
we're  going  to  discharge  our  cargo  there.  Perhaps  it  is 
just  as  well,  after  all,"  he  added,  determined  to  look  on 
the  hright  side,  if  there  was  any,  "  because  when  I  reach 
San  Francisco  I  shall  be  but  a  short  distance  from  the 
Eocky  Mountains,  and  can  begin  the  life  of  a  hunter  as 
soon  as  I  please.  Don't  I  wish  I  was  there  now  with  a 
good  horse  and  gun,  and  such  a  dog  as  the  boy  trappers 
had  ?  Never  mind,  I'll  have  them  one  of  these  days,  if 
I  only  live  to  get  off  this  vessel." 

About  the  time  Guy  was  ordered  below  by  the  second 
mate,  the  captain  returned,  accompanied  by  three  or 
four  policemen.  Guy  heard  them  open  the  hatch  and 
go  into  the  hold,  aud  remembering  that  the  robbers  had 
promised  to  make  a  desperate  resistance,  he  listened  to 
their  movements  with  no  little  anxiety,  momentarily  ex- 
pecting to  hear  the  sounds  of  a  fierce  struggle  going  on 
among  the  freight,  biit  nothing  of  the  kind  hajDpened. 

The  sight  of  the  locusts  and  badges  borne  by  the  offi- 
cers of  the  law  took  all  the  courage  out  of  the  burglars, 
who  quietly  passed  up  their  weapons  and  allowed  hand- 
cuffs to  be  slipped  on  their  wrists.  The  box  was  then 
hoisted  off  the  other  burglar,  and  he  was  placed  upon  a 
stretcher  and  carried  ashore.  It  was  all  done  in  five 
minutes,  and  when  Guy  was  ordered  on  deck  to  assist  in 
getting  the  vessel  under  way — or  rather  to  stand  by 
and  look  on  while  the  others  did  it — the  policemen 
and  their  prisoners  had  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

This  was  the  last  incident  worthy  of  record  that  hap- 
pened while  Guy  remained  on  board  the  Santa  Maria. 
Nothing  occurred  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  voyage, 
wliich  continued  two  hundred  and  ten  days,  and  which 
our  runaway  afterward  looked  back  upon  as  the  dreari- 
est part  of  his  existence. 

With  the  robbers  disappeared  all  traces  of  that  "^other 
crew  "  of  which  the  sailors  stood  so  much  in  fear.  The 
most  superstitious  among  them  kept  a  close  watch  for  a 
few  nights,  starting  at  every  unusual  sound;  and  when 
the  wind   freshened    during    the    mid-watch,    casting 


166  GUY  HARRIS. 

anxious  glances  toward  tlie  niain-toj)sail  yard,  where  the 
ghost  who  shouted  "  Stand  from  under!"  was  accus- 
tomed to  station  himself.  But  nothing  startling  was 
ever  seen  or  heard,  and  the  men  finally  ceased  to  speak 
or  think  of  the  matter. 

Flint  came  in  for  some  slight  punishment  for  assist- 
ing Guy  in  his  attempt  to  desert  the  A'essel,  and  Upham 
and  his  crony  wore  hazed  for  a  day  or  two  for  keeping 
the  ship  waiting  in  port  for  a  crew;  but  the  maters  ill- 
will  seemed  to  wear  itself  out  at  last,  and  then  things 
went  on  smoothly  with  everybody  except  the  runaway. 

Mr.  Schwartz  could  not  forget  that  Guy  had  tried  to 
impose  upon  him  by  rating  himself  as  able  seaman, 
when  he  scarcely  knew  the  maintruck  from  the  kelson, 
and  he  did  not  intend  that  Guy  should  forget  it  either. 
He  never  allowed  him  a  moment's  peace  while  he  was 
on  duty,  and  sometimes,  when  he  felt  particularly  vin- 
dictive, he  would  keep  him  on  deck  long  after  the  rest  of 
the  watch  had  gone  beloAv.  Guy's  life  almost  became  a 
burden  to  him.  The  only  pleasure  he  found  was  in 
looking  at  the  pictures  in  the  "Boy  Trappers,"  and 
dreaming  of  the  easy,  glorious  existence  he  Avould  lead 
when  once  he  became  a  hunter. 

When  he  tumbled  into  his  bunk  he  would  lie  awake 
for  hours  building  his  gorgeous  air-castles.  Under  the 
influence  of  his  lively  imagination  the  walls  of  his  dingy 
quarters  would  seem  to  widen  out  and  loom  up  until 
they  became  lofty,  snow-capped  mountains;  the  dreary 
forecastle,  smelling  of  tar  and  bilge-water,  would  be- 
come a  beautiful  glade  decked  with  flowers  and  embow- 
ered with  trees;  the  smoky  lantern  would  grow  into  a 
cheerful  camp-fire;  the  weather-beaten  walls  would 
change  into  tall,  broad-shouldered  hunters  and  trappers; 
the  chests,  which  were  ranged  on  one  side  of  the  fore- 
castle, would  take  the  shape  of  horses  staked  out  to 
graze;  and  the  clothing  hanging  about  would  be  trans- 
formed into  buffalo  humps  and  juicy  haunches  of 
venison. 

Then  Guy  would  imagine  himself  stretched  out  on 


ON'  SHORE  again:  167 

his  blanket  among  these  wild,  congenial  spirits,  wearing 
a  coonskin  cap  and  dressed  in  a  full  suit  of  buckskin, 
gaudily  ornamented  (he  couldn't  be  a  full-fledged  hun- 
ter without  a  coonskin  cap  and  a  suit  of  buckskin,  es- 
pecially the  latter,  which,  according  to  the  cheap  novels 
he  had  read,  always  set  off  the  wearer's  "slender,  well- 
knit  frame  to  such  good  advantage"),  his  "  deadly  rifle, 
with  which  he  could  drive  a  nail  or  snuff  a  candle  at 
sixty  yards'  distance,"  lying  by  his  side;  his  tomahawk, 
hunting-knife  and  lasso  hanging  from  a  tree  over  his 
head,  his  fierce  wolf-dog  that  could  pull  down  a  buck  or 
throttle  an  Indian  with  all  ease,  reposing  at  his  feet, 
and  his  horse,  an  animal  which  had  carried  him  safely 
through  many  a  desperate  fight  with  savages  and  Avild 
beasts,  and  which  for  speed  and  endurance  was  never 
equaled,  grazing  a  little  apart  from  the  others  and  ren- 
dered conspicuous  by  his  great  size  and  exceeding  beauty. 

"And  suppose  this  horse  was  the  celebrated  white 
pacer  of  the  plains,"  soliloquized  Guy,  carried  fairly  up 
to  the  seventh  heaven  of  happiness  by  his  wild  dream- 
ings;  "  a  horse  that  no  living  man  had  ever  ridden  until 
I  caught  him  with  my  own  lasso  and  tamed  him  with 
my  own  hands  !  Ah  !  And  suppose  these  men  were 
government  scouts  and  I  was  the  chief  of  them?  'The 
Boy  Chief  of  the  Kough  Riders  of  the  Eocky  Mount- 
ains!' Whew!  AVouldn't  that  be  a  sounding  title, 
though?  Oh,  I'm  bound  to  make  myself  famous  before 
I  am  ten  years  older.  Dear  me,  I  wonder  if  this  misera- 
ble vessel  will  ever  reach  San  Francisco  ?" 

When  Guy  dropped  to  sleep  at  last  it  would  be  to  revel 
in  such  scenes  as  this,  until  the  hoarse  voice  of  the 
second  mate  brought  him  back  to  the  realities  of  earth 
again.  He  lived  in  this  way  just  seven  months — how 
careful  he  was  to  count  the  days  as  they  dragged  slowly 
by — and  when  at  last  he  was  beginning  to  despair  and 
to  believe  that  the  voyage  never  would  have  an  end, 
Flint  one  day  pointed  out  something  in  the  horizon 
which  looked  like  a  cloud,  but  which  he  said  was  land, 
adding  that  he  had  heard  the  first  mate  say  that  if  they 


168  GUV  HARRIS. 

had  no  bad  luck  they  would  pass  the  Golien  Clate  in 
about  three  days. 

Guy  had  been  waiting  most  impatiently  for  this  an- 
nouncement, and  now  he  could  not  have  told  whether 
he  was  glad  or  sorry  to  hear  it.  He  longed  to  feel  the 
solid  ground  under  his  feet  once  more,  but  there  was  an 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  his  getting  there  that  he  dreaded 
to  encounter. 

That  was  the  second  mate,  whose  eyes  followed  every 
move  he  made  while  he  was  on  deck.  Since  he  de- 
tected the  boy  in  his  attempt  to  desert  the  vessel,  the 
officer  had  been  more  brutal  than  he  was  before;  and  he 
had  promised,  too,  that  if  he  caught  Guy  in  any  more 
tricks  of  that  kind  he  would  knock  him  overboard  the 
very  first  good  chance  he  got. 

Guy  believed  that  the  mate  fully  intended  to  carry  it 
out.  Flint  thought  so,  too,  and  advised  extreme  cau- 
tion. He  and  Guy  held  many  a  long  consultation,  but 
could  decide  upon  no  definite  plan  of  operations.  The 
only  thing  the  boy  could  do  was  to  be  governed  by  cir- 
cumstances, and  this  time  be  careful  not  to  act  in  too 
great  a  hurry. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  after  land  was  dis- 
covered the  Santa  Maria  entered  the  harbor  of  San 
Francisco  and  came  to  anchor,  where  she  was  to  remain 
a  day  or  two — so  Guy  heard — before  she  was  hauled  into 
the  wharf.  No  sooner  had  she  swung  round  to  her 
anchor  than  one  of  the  boats  was  put  into  the  water, 
and  when  it  had  been  manned  the  captain  came  ou 
deck  carrying  a  basket  on  his  arm. 

^'  Pass  the  word  for  Thomas,"  said  he. 

Guy  heard  the  call,  and  was  hurrying  aft  in  res]^onse 
to  it  when  he  was  met  by  the  second  mate. 

"  Look  here,  my  hearty,"  said  the  officer,  "3-ou're  to 
go  ashore  to  carry  the  captain's  basket.  But  listen 
now — no  nonsense.  I  know  every  hole  and  corner  in 
'Frisco,  and  if  you  don't  come  back  with  the  old  man 
I'll  be  after  you  with  a  sharp  stick,  and  if  I  catch  you — • 
well,  you  know  me." 


ON  SHORE  AGAIN.  169 

The  mate  finished  with  a  peculiar  nod  of  his  head, 
which  had  a  peculiar  meaning  in  it. 

Guy  picked  up  the  captain's  basket  in  obedience  to  a 
gesture  from  that  gentleman,  and  followed  him  into  the 
boat.  His  mind  was  in  such  a  whirl  of  excitement  and 
uncertainty  that  he  took  no  note  of  what  was  going  on 
around  him.  Here  was  a  chance  for  liberty,  but  he  did 
not  know  whether  to  improve  it  or  not.  He  had  noth- 
ing with  him  except  his  money,  and  that  he  always 
carried  in  his  monk-bag,  which  was  slung  around  his 
neck.  The  blankets  and  extra  clothing  which  he  would 
probably  need  before  he  could  have  time  to  earn  others, 
were  in  his  bundle  in  the  forecastle,  and  so  was  that 
book  of  Henry  Stewart's,  which  was  to  him  what  chart 
and  compass  are  to  the  mariner. 

Guy  set  great  store  by  that  book.  It  would,  he  thought, 
be  of  as  much  service  to  him  as  the  blankets  and  extra 
clothing,  for  he  knew  nothing  about  hunting  and  trajj- 
ping;  in  fact,  he  had  never  tired  a  gun  half  a  dozen 
times  in  his  life,  and  he  could  make  but  poor  headway 
until  he  had  received  instructions  from  some  source. 

Having  no  mind  of  his  own  and  knowing  next  to 
nothing  outside  of  school  books,  he  had  leaned  upon 
somebody  ever  since  he  had  been  away  from  home — Bob 
Walker  first,  and  then  Flint — and  he  had  expected 
when  he  left  the  vessel  to  have  the  book  for  a  counselor. 
It  told  how  to  build  camps,  how  to  cook  squirrels  and 
venison  on  spits  before  the  fire,  how  to  travel  through 
the  thickest  woods  without  the  aid  of  a  compass  or  the 
sun,  and  how  he  ought  to  conduct  himself  in  all  sorts  of 
terrible  emergencies,  such  as  fights  with  Indians  and  griz- 
zly bears.  It  would  bo  a  rather  risky  piece  of  business  for 
him  to  depend  on  his  own  judgment  and  resources,  and 
it  would  be  equally  risky  to  wait  for  another  oppor- 
tunity to  desert,  for  it  might  never  be  presented. 

Guy  did  not  know  what  to  do,  and  there  was  no  one 
to  whom  he  could  go  for  advice. 

"  Thomas,  you  stay  here  till  I  come." 

These  words  aroused   Guy  from    his  reverie.      He 


170  GUY  HARRIS. 

looked  iip  and  found  himself  standing  at  tlie  foot  of  a 
long,  wide  stairway  leading  np  into  a  building  whicli 
looked  like  a  warehouse.  The  Santa  Maria  was  hidden 
from  his  view  by  the  masts  and  rigging  of  the  vessels 
lying  at  the  wharf,  the  boat  in  which  he  had  come  ashore 
was  out  of  sight,  and  so  was  the  captain,  who  went 
quickly  up  the  stairs  and  disappeared  through  a  door, 
which  he  slammed  behind  him.  Now  or  never  was  the 
thought  that  passed  through  Guy's  mind,  and  without 
stopping  to  dwell  upon  it  an  instant,  he  dropped  the 
basket  and  darted  away  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry 
him,  turning  down  every  street  he  came  to,  and  putting 
as  many  corners  as  possible  between  himself  and  the 
harbor. 

Guy  had  learned  at  least  one  thing  during  the  eight  or 
nine  months  he  had  been  on  the  water,  and  that  was  that 
in  all  seaport  towns  the  sailors'  quarters  are  located  near 
the  docks,  hence  his  desire  to  leave  that  part  of  the  city 
behind  him  in  the  shortest  possible  space  of  time.  He 
never  wanted  to  meet  a  seafaring  man  again — he  had 
learned  to  despise  the  name  as  well  as  the  calling.  Be- 
sides, he  knew  that  if  the  second  mate  fulfilled  his  threat 
of  searching  the  city  for  him,  that  part  of  it  to  which  the 
sailors  most  resorted  would  be  the  very  first  place  lie 
would  visit.  Guy  wondered  if  there  was  a  hunters' 
boarding-house  in  town.  The  officer  would  never  think 
of  looking  for  him  there. 

The  deserter  made  remarkably  good  time  for  a  boy  who 
had  been  worn  almost  to  a  shadow  of  his  former  self  by 
hard  fare  and  harder  treatment,  settling  down  in  a  rapid 
walk  at  intervals,  and  then  breaking  into  a  run  again 
when  he  reached  a  street  in  which  there  were  but  few 
people  to  observe  his  movements,  and  was  finally  brought 
to  a  stand-still  by  a  sign  which  caught  his  eye — J. 
Brown,  gunsmith. 

The  words  drove  all  thoughts  of  the  mate  out  of  his 
mind,  and  suggested  to  him  a  new  train  of  reflections. 
He  was  out  of  danger  for  the  present — he  had  been  run- 
ning fully  half  an  hour^^  as  nearly  as  he  could  guess  at  the 


01^  SHORE  AGAIN.  Yl\ 

time — and  had  leisure  to  ponder  upon  a  question  which 
Just  then  arose  in  his  mind.  Here  was  a  chance  to  pro- 
vide himself  with  as  much  of  a  hunter's  outfit  as  his 
limited  supply  of  money  would  purchase.  Should  he 
improve  it,  or  wait  until  some  future  day?  It  was  a 
matter  that  could  not  be  decided  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment, so  Guy  seated  himself  on  a  dry-goods  box  in  front 
of  a  store  opposite  the  gunsmith's,  and  thought  about  it. 

After  he  had  recovered  a  little  of  his  wind,  and  got  his 
brain  in  working  order,  Guy  walked  across  the  street  and 
looked  in  at  the  gunsmith's  window.  He  saw  there 
everything  a  hunter  could  possibly  need — rifles,  shot- 
guns, hunting-knives,  revolvers,  game-bags,  traps,  and 
fishing-tackle — such  a  variety,  in  fact,  that  Guy  could 
not  at  once  make  up  his  mind  what  he  wanted  most. 
The  window  on  the  other  side  of  the  door  was  filled  with 
saddles,  bridles,  blankets,  spurs  and  ponchos.  As  Guy 
looked  at  them  a  second  question  arose  in  his  mind. 

"Now,  how  am  I  going  to  get  my  horse?"  he  asked 
himself.  ''I  must  have  one,  for  I  never  heard  of  a 
hunter  traveling  about  on  foot.  It  wouldn't  look  well. 
Besides,  what  if  I  should  happen  to  get  into  a  fight  with 
Indians  or  grizzly  bears?  Why,  I'd  be  rubbed  out  sure. 
And  if  I  can  think  up  some  way  to  get  a  horse,  how  am 
I  going  to  earn  the  money  to  buy  a  saddle  and  bridle  for 
him?  Great  Scott!  there's  always  some  drawback  to  my 
plans." 

And  this  seemed  to  be  a  serious  drawback,  too.  When- 
ever Guy  had  indulged  in  his  day-dreams,  he  had  always 
imagined  himself  a  prosperous  and  famous  hunter,  with 
all  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  his  calling  at  his  com- 
mand. The  question  had  sometimes  forced  itself  upon 
his  mind,  how  was  he  to  get  all  these  things?  But  it 
was  always  an  unwelcome  one,  and  was  dismissed  with 
the  comforting  reflection  that  it  would  be  time  enough 
to  worry  about  such  little  matters  Avhen  he  stood  in  need 
of  them.  That  was  the  way  he  disposed  of  the  horse 
question  now. 

*'ril  get  my  gun  and  other  things  I  need,  and  think 


172  GUY  HARRIS. 

about  a  horse  some  other  time,"  he  thought.  "  Perhaps 
1  can  buy  one  already  trained  from  some  friendly  Indian 
lor  a  plug  or  two  of  tobacco;  and,  by  the  way,  I  guess  I 
had  better  get  some  tobacco  for  that  purpose.  Or,  I  may 
find  a  hunting-ground  ^o  well  stocked  with  game  that  I 
can  trap  and  shoot  enough  beaver  and  otter  in  a  few  days 
to  pay  for  a  good  horse.  But  the  mischief  of  it  is,  I  don't 
know  how  to  hunt  and  trap  those  animals,  and  there^s 
tliat  book  I  need  so  much  on  board  the  Santa  Maria.  No 
matter,  I'll  wiggle  through  some  way.  "What  I  want 
just  now  is  a  shooting-iron." 

So  saying,  Guy  opened  the  door  and  went  into  the 
gun-shop. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE      EAXCHMAN". 

'D  LIKE  to  look  at  a  rifle,''  said  Guy  to  the 
guusmith,  who  came  up  behind  the  couuter 
to  atteud  to  his  wants. 
"  Sometliing  pretty  nice?"  asked  the  man. 

*'  No,  sir.     I  can't  afford  anything  fancy." 

"'You  want  a  squirrel-rifle,  I  suppose?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  rei^lied  Guy.  ."I  don't  waste  time 
on  such  small  game.  I  want  one  carrying  a  ball  large 
enough  to  knock  over  a  buffalo  or  a  grizzly  bear." 

"Oh!"  said  the  gunsmith.  He  looked  curiously  at 
Guy  for  a  moment,  and  then  opening  a  glass  door  be- 
hind him,  took  out  a  plainly  finished  rifle,  and  handed 
it  over  the  counter.  "  There's  one  carrying  fifty  to  the 
pound,"  said  he,  "  and  Til  warrant  it  to  shoot  two  hun- 
dred yards  with  accuracy.     Only  fifteen  dollars." 

Guy  took  the  weapon,  and  it  was  so  much  heavier 
than  he  expected  to  find  it  that  he  came  very  near  drop- 
ping it  on  the  floor. 

The  gunsmith  said  it  weighed  twelve  pounds,  but  his 
customer  thought  he  meant  to  say  forty,  for  when  he 
lifted  it  to  his  shoulder  and  glanced  along  the  barrel  as  if 
he  were  taking  aim  at  something,  it  was  all  he  could  do 
to  hold  it,  and  the  muzzle  "  wobbled  "  about  so  violently 
that  it  was  doubtful  if  ho  could  have  hit  the  side  of  a 
barn  at  twenty  paces.  He  noticed,  too,  that  the  weapon 
"was  provided  with  two  triggers  and  two  sights,  and  he 
did  not  see  Avhat  use  they  could  possibly  be;  but  of 
course  he  could  not  ask  questions  without  showing  his 
ignorance. 

"  I  want  something  I  can  depend  upon  in  any  emer- 
gency," said  Guy  after  he  had  looked  the  rifle  OA^er 
with  an  air  of  profound  wisdom,     "  A  man  who  follows 


174  GUY  HARRIS. 

the  business  of  a  hunter  sometimes  finds  himself  in  a 
tight  place." 

''Why,  I  thought  you  were  a  sailor,"  said  the  gun- 
smith.    "You  look  like  one." 

"A  sailor!"  repeated  Guy  contemptuously.  "Well, 
I  have  been,  that's  a  fact,"  he  added,  suddenly  recollect- 
ing that  he  had  not  yet  donned  his  coonskin  cajD  and 
suit  of  buckskin;  "but  I'm  a  hunter  now.  Did  you 
never  hear  of  the  Wild  Eough  Eiders  of  the  Eocky 
Mountains?" 

This  was  the  name  Guy  intended  to  give  to  his  band 
when  he  got  it  organized,  and  he  thought  he  might  as 
well  begin  to  let  people  hear  of  it. 

"No,"  said  the  man,  looking  at  Guy  as  if  he  were  on 
the  point  of  laughing  outright,  "  I  never  did." 

"  Well,  I  am  one  of  them,  and  I  want  a  good  rifle." 

"  This  is  a  weapon  I  can  recommend,"  said  the  gun- 
smith. "Here  are  the  molds  that  go  with  it.  You 
can  see  that  it  carries  a  large  ball.  If  a  bear  gets  one 
of  them  in  his  head,  it  will  be  the  last  of  him." 

"I'll  take  it,"  said  Guy.  "  Xow  I  want  some  other 
things  to  go  with  it." 

The  gunsmith,  who  was  all  attention,  handed  out  the 
other  articles  as  Guy  called  for  them — a  game-bag,  a 
powder-horn  (which  he  filled  with  rifie-powder),  a  box 
of  caps,  a  hunting-knife,  two  pounds  of  bullets  to  fit 
the  rifle,  as  many  j^ounds  of  bar  lead  and  a  ladle  to  melt 
it  in,  and  also  a  poncho  and  a  Mexican  blanket,  Avhich  he 
tied  up  in  a  bundle  so  that  Guy  could  carry  them  over 
his  shoulder.  The  trading  was  all  done  in  tv/enty  min- 
utes, and  when  Guy  walked  out  of  the  store  he  had 
thirty-flve  dollars  less  in  his  purse,  and  his  first  hunter's 
outfit  on  his  back. 

"Now  I  begin  to  feel  like  somebody,"  thought  the 
boy,  as  he  lifted  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and  hurried 
down  the  road.  "  Mr.  Schwartz  has  laid  a  rope's  end 
over  my  back  for  the  last  time.  Don't  I  wish  I  could 
see  him  just  now?  I'd  show  him  how  we  rough  riders 
are  going  to  clean  out  the  Indians.     I'll  turn  into  the 


THE  RANCHMAN.  175 

first  hotel  I  find,  get  a  square  meal,  and  go  to  bed, 
knowing  that  there'll  be  no  one  to  awaken  me  with, 
'All  you  port  watch,  ahoy!  Roll  out  lively,  Thomas, 
or  I'll  be  down  there  after  you.'  But  after  to-night  I 
shall  live  in  the  open  air  altogether.  I  wish  I  had  a 
horse.  Those  mouutains  seem  a  long  way  off.  I  shall 
find  my  first  hunting-grounds  among  them." 

Guy  trudged  along  the  dusty  road  for  the  next  two 
hours  indulging  in  such  thoughts  as  these,  and  very 
pleasant  traveling  companions  he  found  them.  Now 
and  then  he  would  be  aroused  by  the  sound  of  wheels, 
when  he  would  wake  up  long  enough  to  step  out  of  the 
way  of  some  j^assing  vehicle,  and  then  he  would  go  on 
with  his  dreaming  again. 

At  last  he  found  what  he  was  in  search  of — a  hotel, 
the  existence  of  which  was  made  known  to  him  by  a 
faded  sign  swinging  from  the  top  of  a  high  post,  and 
which  conveyed  to  those  who  passed  that  way  the  in- 
formation that  entertainment  for  man  and  beast  was 
there  furnished  by  Tom  Davis.  The  hotel  itself  was 
a  weather-beaten,  tumble-down  sort  of  a  building,  and 
was  better  calculated  to  repel  than  to  attract  customers; 
but  Guy  did  not  stop  to  look  at  it.  If  it  could  furnish 
him  with  plenty  to  eat  and  a  bed  to  sleep  in,  that  was 
all  he  cared  for. 

Attracted  by  the  sound  of  voices,  he  turned  the  cor- 
ner of  the  building  Avhere  the  principal  entrance  seemed 
to  be,  and  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  dozen  or 
more  men  who  Avere  congregated  on  the  porch,  some 
lounging  on  benches,  and  others  sitting  with  their  chairs 
tipped  back  against  the  side  of  the  house  and  their  feet 
elevated  on  the  rounds.  They  were  all  taking  loudly, 
and  the  appearance  and  actions  of  some  of  them  indi- 
cated that  they  had  had  something  besides  water  to 
drink.  They  raised  their  eyes  as  the  boy  appeared 
among  them,  and  after  giving  him  a  good  looking  over, 
went  on  with  their  conversation. 

The  landlord  was  among  them,  and  he  made  himself 
known  to  Guy  by  pointing  with  his  thumb   over  his 


176  GUY  HARRIS. 

slioulder  toward  the  open  door — an  invitation  for  him 
to  enter  and  make  himself  at  home.  At  any  rate  Guy 
took  it  as  such  and  acted  upon  it.  In  the  bar-room  he 
found  another  rougli-looking  individual,  who  relieved 
him  of  his  rifle  and  pack  and  asked  what  he  could  do 
for  him. 

"  I  want  a  room  and  something  to  eat/'^  said  Guy. 

''\  don't  know  how  it'll  be  about  a  room,"  replied  the 
man.  "  We're  pretty  full — we  always  are — but  I  can 
give  you  a  shake-down  somewhere.  Grub  is  plenty, 
and  you  look  as  though  you  needed  a  good  tuck-out." 

"So  I  do,"  said  Guy.  "I  am  almost  starved  to 
death.  I  haven't  eaten  anything  but  salt  horse  and 
hard-tack  for  the  last  seven  months." 

The  man  showed  some  curiosity  to  know  where  Guy 
had  been  that  he  was  obliged  to  live  on  such  fare,  and 
the  latter  told  him  as  much  of  his  history  as  he  cared  to 
have  him  know.  He  did  not  tell  him,  however,  where 
he  was  going  and  what  he  intended  to  do,  for  fear  the 
man  might  laugh  at  him.  He  had  a  suspicion  that  the 
gunsmith  laughed  at  him  when  he  was  buying  his  out- 
fit. Indeed,  everybody  who  knew  that  he  wanted  to  be 
a  hunter  thought  the  notion  a  wild  one — they  looked  it 
if  they  did  not  say  it — and  Guy  could  not  bear  to  have 
his  grand  idea  made  sport  of. 

Guy  passed  a  comfortaljle  night  at  the  hotel  in  sjtite 
of  its  unpromising  exterior,  enjoyed  a  good  sleep,  which 
was  something  he  really  needed,  ate  a  hearty  breakfast 
the  next  morning,  and  felt  more  like  himself  than  he 
had  felt  for  many  a  long  day.  Having  settled  his  bill 
he  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  porch  with  his  rifle  in  his 
hand  and  his  pack  over  his  shoulder,  looking  down  the 
long,  straight  road  before  him  and  wondering  how  many 
steps  it  would  take  to  bring  him  to  his  hunting-grounds, 
when  he  was  accosted  by  one  of  the  guests  of  the  house 
who  sat  on  a  heavily  loaded  wagon  Avith  his  whip  and 
reins  in  his  hand. 

"I  say,  stranger,  if  you're  travelin'  my  way,  you 
might  as  well  get  up  an'  ride,"  said  he. 


THE  RANCHMAN.  177 

''  Are  yon  going  to  the  mountains?'^  asked  Guy. 

*' Wal,  I'm  goiu'  down  to  the  San  Joaquin.'' 

*'Is  there  any  hunting  there?" 

"  Hantin'!  Now  you're  talkin'.  Thar's  bars  an' 
antelope  till  you  can't  rest." 

"'  Then  that's  the  place  I'm  looking  for,  and  I'll 
ride." 

So  saying  Guy  handed  up  his  rifle  and  pack  and 
mounted  beside  the  man,  who  cracked  his  whijD  and 
drove  off. 

Mr.  Wilson,  for  that  was  the  man's  name,  was  an  old 
miner,  having  immigrated  in  '49.  Like  many  others  of 
his  class,  he  believed  that  California  was  completely 
"petered  out,"  now  that  the  placer  diggings  had  failed, 
and  he  had  taken  to  farming,  not  because  he  liked 
it  or  it  was  a  profitable  business,  but  because  he  had  to 
do  something  for  a  living,  and  nothing  else  olferedc 
He  did  not  own  an  acre  of  land,  but  he  raised  any  num- 
ber of  fine  horses  and  cattle  for  market,  and  had  one  of 
the  best  paying  stores  in  the  San  Joaquin  valley.  He  had 
been  to  'Frisco  for  supplies,  and  was  now  on  his  way 
home. 

Gny  learned  this  much  from  two  hours'  conversation 
with  his  new  acquaintance,  and  during  that  same  time 
Mr.  Wilson  had  heard  all  about  Guy's  history  and  in- 
tentions. He  must  have  had  a  high  ojjinion  of  the  boy, 
too,  if  he  believed  all  he  said,  for  Guy,  like  everybody 
else  who  tries  to  make  himself  appear  something  better 
than  he  realh^  is,  was  a  great  boaster.  The  stories  he 
told  of  the  Avonderful  feats  he  had  performed  with  his 
rifle,  and  his  skill  in  catching  and  breaking  wild  horses, 
were  enough  to  make  one  open  his  eyes. 

Guy  should  have  known  better  than  this.  He  had 
received  a  lesson  that  ought  to  have  broken  him  of  his 
propensity  to  boast.  He  had  induced  Smith,  the  ship- 
ping agent,  to  rate  him  on  the  articles  as  ?n  able  sea- 
man, and  that  one  act,  performed  in  five  minutes'  time, 
had  brought  him  seven  long  months  of  haziug.  But 
Guy  never  thought  of  it  now.     The  privations  he  had, 


178  GUY  HARRIS. 

undergone,  and  the  cruel  treatment  he  had  received 
while  he  was  on  board  the  Santa  Maria,  seemed  to  him 
like  a  troubled  dream.  Besides,  Mr.  Wilson  Avould 
never  have  an  opportunity  to  catch  him  in  any  of  his 
falsehoods,  for  in  a  few  days  Gay  expected  to  leave 
him,  never  to  meet  him  again. 

"  So  you're  a  hunter, ''  said  the  ranchman  at  length, 
"  You  don't  look  to  me  like  you  was  made  of  the  right 
kind  of  stuff  fur  that  business.  It  takes  them  Avho  has 
been  born  in  it  to  foller  it.  I  don't  know  nobody  about 
here  who  makes  a  livin'  at  it.     Even  the  Injuns  don't.'' 

"They  don't?"  exclaimed  Guy,  "^  How  do  they 
make  a  living  then  ?" 

"  Why,  they  work  on  the  ranches — herd  cattle  an' 
sheep,  an'  raise  garden  truck.  If  I  was  goin'  to  be  a 
hunter  I'd  go  at  it  right." 

"  That's  just  what  I  intend  to  do,"  said  Guy.  "I  am 
going  to  hunt  about  here  till  I  get  a  horse  and  find  a 
conpanion,  and  then  I'm  going  to  strike  for  the  plains." 

"  Then  my  man  Zeke  is  jest  the  feller  you  want  to 
see,"  said  the  ranchman.  "  He's  a  reg'lar  hunter,  an'* 
you'd  know  it  the  minute  you  sot  eyes  onto  him,  fur 
you  have  to  get  a  tree  in  line  with  him  when  he's  movin' 
to  see  if  he's  goin'  ahead  any.  He's  the  laziest  man  I 
ever  see,  an'  I've  seed  a  heap.  He  b'longs  out  on  the 
prairy,  kills  buffaler  fur  a  livin'.  Last  season  he  shot 
two  thousand  an'  better.  Got  a  dollar  apiece  fur  the 
hides,  an'  come  down  to  'Frisco  to  see  the  elephant.  He 
seed  him,  too,  I  reckon,  fur  when  I  found  him  he  was 
flat  busted,  an'  as  hungry  as  a  wolf.  He's  herdin'  cattle 
fur  me  now  to  get  a  boss  an'  a  new  outfit,  an'  when  he 
gets  'em  he's  goin'  back  to  the  plains." 

''Did  you  say  he  was  working  for  a  horse?"  asked 
Guy. 

"Wal,  he's  arned  the  boss  already,  an'  now  he's 
workin'  fur  a  kit — a  rifle,  blankets  an'  so  on.  He  takes 
'em  outen  my  store,  you  know." 

"  Have  you  any  other  horse  you'd  like  to  sell?" 

*'  Wal,  1  dunno, "  said  the  ranchman  with  a  smile. 


THE  RANCHMAN.  179 

"  I've  got  a  matter  of  six  or  seven  hundred,  mebbe,  an' 
might  spar'  one  more." 

"  What  do  yon  ask  for  them?" 

"  All  prices — twenty-five  to  seventy-five  dollars." 

"  I  should  like  to  get  one,"  said  Guy,  '•  and  I  am 
willing  to  work  for  it." 

"  Wal,  I've  got  plenty  that  you  can  do — I  never  yet 
heard  that  work  was  scarce  in  this  country — an'  if  you've 
a  mind  to  set  in  with  me,  I'll  give  you  twenty  dollars  a 
month  an'  find  you." 

"^Find  me?"  repeated  Guy.  "^  Am  I  going  to  get 
lost?" 

"■  Eh?  Lost!  No.  I  mean  I'll  give  you  twenty  dol- 
lars a  month  an'  all  the  grub  you  want  to  eat  an'  all  the 
bosses  you  need  to  ride.  I  give  Zeke  thirty  dollars,  but 
you  don't  know  nothin'  about  herdin'  cattle.  You  talk 
like  a  high  larnt  boy.    Did  you  ever  have  any  schoolin'.^" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Guy.  "I've  been  to  school  all  my 
life — that  is  almost  all  my  life.  I've  been  a  hunter  five 
years,  you  know." 

"Then  mebbe  you're  jest  the  feller  I  Avant  to  tend 
store  fur  me.     Did  you  ever  do  anything  of  the  kind?" 

It  would  not  be  safe  to  boast  now,  for  there  was  a 
chance  of  being  found  out,  so  Guy  gave  a  truthful 
answer. 

"No,  I  never  did,"  said  he,  "but  I  know  I  could 
learn." 

"  Sartin  you  could.  It's  easy  larnt.  Now  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do.  If  you're  a  mind  to  work  about  the 
rauch  on  week  days  an'  tend  store  on  Sundays,  I'll  give 
you  what  I  told  you  an'  let  you  have  your  pick  of  my 
bosses,  an'  I've  got  some  good  ones,  too.  Only  you 
must  promise  one  thing — if  you  want  to  leave  me  you 
must  give  me  a  month's  notice,  so  that  I  can  get  some- 
body to  fill  your  place.  I  make  that  bargain  with  all 
my  hands." 

"All  right,"  said  Guy,  "I'll  do  it." 

And  so  the  matter  was  settled.  Guy  had  found  a 
way  to  get  the  horse  he  so  much  needed,  and  he  was  in 
ecstasies  over  it. 


180  GUY  HARRIS. 

The  journey  to  M)\  Wilson's  ranch  occupied  nearly  a 
Aveek,  and  during  that  time  Guy  learned  something  of 
the  outdoor  life  he  expected  to  lead  all  the  rest  of  his 
days.  The  change  from  the  close,  cramped  forecastle 
of  the  Santa  Maria  to  the  freedom  of  the  country  was  a 
most  agreeable  one,  and  he  thoroughly  enjoyed  his 
liberty.  He  talked  to  Mr,  Wilson  every  day  about  Zeke, 
and  made  up  his  mind  that  he  should  like  him.  If  he 
only  proved  to  be  a  genial,  talkative  companion  and  as 
good  a  hunter  as  Flint  was  a  sailor,  Guy  would  ask 
nothing  more  of  him.  Every  day  he  grew  more  and 
more  impatient  to  meet  him,  and  was  glad  indeed  when 
Mr.  Wilson  pointed  out  a  house  in  advance  of  them 
and  informed  him  that  when  they  reached  it  they  would 
be  at  their  journey's  end. 

''All  this  land"  you  see  here,"  said  the  ranchman, 
waving  his  whip  toward  the  broad,  level  plain  which 
stretched  away  on  both  sides  of  the  road,  "used  to  be 
Congress  land.  AVhen  I  first  squatted  here  I  had  it  all 
to  myself,  but  other  fellers  kept  comin'  in  all  the  while 
with  their  bosses  an'  cattle  an'  locatin'  their  farms  right 
in  the  best  part  of  my  pastur',  an'  at  last  they  got  to 
crowdin'  me  so  heavy  that  I  had  to  send  Zeke  with  the 
most  of  my  stock  about  forty  miles  farther  down  the 
valley.  I'm  goin'  to  send  you  down  to  him  to-morrer 
with  some  supplies." 

"But  what  if  I  should  get  lost?"  said  Guy.  "You 
must  remember  that  I  don't  know  the  country  yet." 

"  You  can  foller  a  plain  trail,  can't  you?" 

*'Yes,  I  can  do  that." 

"Then  you  needn't  get  lost  unless  you're  a  mind  to, 
"cause  the  road's  as  plain  as  daylight.  Besides,  I'll  put 
the  pack  on  the  ole  clay-bank,  an'  she  knows  every  step 
of  the  way." 

80  saying,  Mr.  AVilson  cracked  his  whip,  and  urging 
his  tired  horses  into  a  trot  brought  his  heavy  wagon  up 
before  the  door  of  the  rancho  in  fine  style. 

The  rancho  was  a  roomy,  rambling  structure  built  of 
unplaned  boards^  and  like  the  hotel  at  which  Guy  had 


THE  RANCHMAN.  181 

stopped  in  San  Francisco,  gave  promise  of  anything  but 
comfortable  accommodations.  The  inside  proved  on 
closer  acquaintance  to  be  quite  as  cheerless  as  the  ex- 
terior. There  was  no  stove,  no  fire-place,  no  chairs,  not 
even  a  bedstead  in  the  house  that  Guy  could  discover. 
It  looked  perfectly  poverty-stricken.  But  nevertheless 
the  rancho,  and  its  occupants,  too,  were  as  clean  as  new 
pins.  The  earthen  floor  had  evidently  just  been  swept; 
the  table  and  the  benches  which  served  in  lien  of  the 
chairs  were  as  white  as  sand  and  water  could  make 
them;  the  Mexican  wife  of  the  proprietor  was  neatly 
dressed,  and  the  children,  who  crowded  about  him  as  he 
jumped  down  from  the  wagon,  had  just  received  a 
thorough  scrubbing  in  anticipation  of  their  sire's  re- 
turn. 

Guy  carried  his  rifle  and  pack  into  the  house,  and 
during  the  next  half-hour  worked  hard  enough  to  get 
up  a  splendid  appetite  for  supper,  although  an  un- 
pleasant incident  that  happened  drove  it  all  away  again. 

The  first  thing  Mr.  Wilson  did  was  to  take  a  key  from 
a  nail  under  the  porch,  and  open  a  door  leading  into  a 
small  room  adjoining  the  main  building.  This  proved 
to  be  the  store  of  ^\hich  he  had  spoken.  Here  the 
ranchman  kept  a  variety  of  useful  and  salable  articles; 
among  the  latter  tobacco  and  grape  brandy,  which,  as  he 
told  Guy,  formed  his  principal  stock  in  trade.  He 
further  informed  his  new  hand  that  although  the  rancho 
was  dull  enough  on  week  days,  it  was  the  very  reverse  on 
Sundays,  for  then  it  was  the  headquarters  of  all  the 
ranchmen  and  Indians  for  fifteen  miles  around,  who 
congregated  there  to  drink,  shoot,  and  run  horses.  Mr. 
Wilson  liked  to  join  in  these  sports,  and  he  wanted 
somebody  to  take  care  of  the  store,  so  that  he  could  give 
his  undivided  attention  to  them. 

After  the  wagon  had  been  unloaded  and  the  contents 
stowed  away  in  the  store,  Guy  assisted  j\Ir,  Wilson  in 
taking  care  of  the  horses.  This  was  done  in  a  very  few 
minutes,  for  all  that  was  necessary  was  to  unharness 
them  and  turn  them  loose  on  the  prairie. 


182  GUY  HARRIS. 

"^Are  you  not  afraid  they  will  stray  away  ?^*  asked 
Guy. 

"I  don't  care  if  they  do/' replied  the  ranchman. 
^' I've  got  plenty  more." 

''But  you  might  lose  them  altogether," 

"No  fear  of  that.  They've  got  my  brand  on  'em,  an' 
everybody  knows  it.  Now/'  he  added,  throwing  the 
harness  into  the  wagon,  and  leading  the  way  toward  a 
small  corral  into  which  twenty  or  tliirty  horses  had  just 
been  driven  by  an  Indian  vacquero,  I'll  show  you  the 
hoss  I'm  going  to  sell  j^ou.  You  can  try  him  now  an' 
see  how  you  like  him,  an'  to-morrer  you  can  ride  him 
down  to  Zeke." 

If  there  was  any  part  of  his  hunter  life  on  which  Guy, 
during  his  day-dreaming,  had  dwelt  Avith  more  satisfac- 
tion than  another,  it  was  that  Avhich  he  expected  to 
spend  in  the  saddle.  Although  he  had  never  mounted 
a  horse  in  his  life,  he  had  somehow  got  it  into  his  head, 
along  with  his  other  foolish  notions,  that  he  had  in  him 
the  qualities  of  v/hich  accomplished  and  fearless  riders 
are  made.  He  would  render  himself  famous,  not  only 
by  shooting  grizzly  bears  and  Indians,  but  by  riding 
horses  that  nobody  else  dared  to  mount.  He  hoped  dur- 
ing his  wanderings  to  meet  that  celebrated  white  pacer, 
which,  according  to  a  certain  cheap  novel  he  had  read, 
had  often  been  captured  by  strategy  but  never  ridden. 
This  famous  horse  always  threw  those  who  attempted  to 
mount  him,  trampled  them  to  death,  and  then  made  off, 
fairly  distancing  the  fleetest  nags  that  could  be  brought 
in  pursuit  of  him. 

Guy  believed  in  the  existence  of  this  animal  as  firmly 
as  he  believed  in  the  existence  of  the  boy-trapj)ers,  and 
hoped  s~>me  day  to  own  and  subdue  him;  but  now  that 
he  had  a  chance  to  begin  his  career  as  a  rough  rider,  he 
felt  very  much  like  backing  out.  He  found  that  there 
is  a  vast  difference  between  thinking  about  things  and 
doing  them.  The  actions  of  the  horses  in  the  corral 
frightened  him.  They  were  such  restless  fellows!  They 
danced  and  curveted,  reared,  flourished  their  heels  in  the 


THE  RANCHMAN.  183 

air,  and  dashed  about  the  inclosure  like  veritable  wild 
horses. 

The  vacquero,  in  obedience  to  his  master's  order,  en- 
tered the  corral,  lasso  in  hand,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
came  out  again  leading  a  small,  clean-limbed  horse, 
which  seemed  very  much  averse  to  leaving  his  com- 
panions, and  showed  his  disapproval  of  the  whole  pro- 
ceeding by  furious  kicks  and  plunges. 

"Thar  he  is!"  exclaimed  the  ranchman.  "Twenty- 
five  dollars  fur  him,  an'  that's  dog  cheap.  Gentle  as  a 
kitten,  as  anybody  can  see." 

"  No,"  said  Guy,  "/can't  see  it." 

"Oh,  he's  lively,  of  course.  He  hain't  lieen  doin' 
nothing  fur  three  or  four  months,  you  know,  an'  never 
had  a  saddle  on  him  but  two  or  three  times.  If  he 
hain't  the  next  thing  to  a  lightnin'  express  train,  you 
jest  take  my  hat  an'  say  no  more  about  it.  Purty  as  a 
red  wagon  wheel,  too,  he  is.  Jump?  I  should  say  he 
could.  And  last!  You  can't  tire  him  down.  He's 
made  of  iron.  Thar  he  is.  Jump  on  him  an'  put  him 
through  his  paces." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  the  vacquero 
had  with  wonderful  dexterity  slipped  a  bridle  over  the 
horse's  head,  strapped  a  deep  Spanish  saddle  on  his  back, 
and  now  stood  holding  him  in  readiness  for  Guy  to 
mount. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

GUT,    THE    ROUGH    EIDEE. 

UY  HEAED  scarcely  a  word  of  Mr.  Wilson's 
glowing  description  of  the  merits  of  his 
horse,  for  his  mind  was  busy  with  something 
else.  He  was  trying  to  think  up  some  good 
excuse  for  declining  to  mount  the  animal.  He  made 
one  praiseworthy  resolution  then  and  there,  and  that  was 
that  he  would  never  again  indulge  in  boasting.  He 
had  never  done  it  yet  without  being  exposed. 

'' Thar  he  is!"  repeated  the  ranchman.  "Jump  on! 
an'  if  he  don't  take  you  througli  San  Joaquin  a  leetle 
trifle  faster  than  you  ever  traveled  afore  on  hoss-back 
I'll  give  him  to  you  for  nothing.  Hand  us  your  foot 
an'  I'll  throw  you  on." 

Guy's  pride  was  stronger  than  his  fear.  He  could  see 
no  way  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty  into  which  he  had 
brought  himself  by  his  reckless  boasting  except  by  a 
frank  confession,  and  that,  of  course,  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  He  noticed  that  the  animal  became  quieter 
since  the  bit  was  put  into  his  mouth,  and  consoling 
himself  with  the  hope  that  perhaps  he  was  not  so  bad 
after  all,  Guy  seized  the  horn  of  the  saddle,  gave  his 
foot  to  Mr.  Wilson,  and  in  a  twinkling  was  seated  on 
the  animal's  back. 

The  horse  seemed  astonished  at  his  presumption. 
He  turned  his  head  first  one  way  and  then  the  other, 
looking  at  Guy  over  each  shoulder,  while  the  ranchman 
and  his  vacquero  begun  to  back  away,  as  if  in  anticipa- 
tion of  something  that  was  about  to  happen. 

"Put  your  feet  in  the  stirrups,"  said  Mr.  Wilson, 
"  an'  I'll  give  him  a  good  send  off." 

Before  Guy  could  obey  the  horse  begun  his  antics. 
He  put  his  head  down  between  his  knees,  humped  up 


ISi;  GUY  HARRIS. 

liis  back,  bronght  his  four  feet  together,  and  bounded 
from  the  ground,  commg  down  as  solid  as  a  rock,  and 
with  a  concussion  tliat  was  terrific.  Guy  arose  in  the 
air  about  a  foot  and  a  half,  and  then  settled  into  the 
saddle  again  with  a  jar  that  fairly  made  his  teeth 
chatter. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  ranchman,  who  appeared  to 
be  as  highly  delighted  as  he  would  have  been  over  an 
exhibition  of  fancy  riding  in  a  circus;  "  that  was  well 
done!     He  bucks  beautiful,  don't  he?" 

"  Ye — yes,"  said  Gruy,  who  had  not  the  least  idea 
what  Mr.  Wilson  meant.  '''But  why  don't  he  go 
ahead?     Get  up  here!" 

The  horse  did  get  up- — this  time  higher  than  before — 
and  he  executed  the  movement  with  a  vigor  and  vicious- 
ness  which  showed  that  he  meant  business.  He  made  a 
most  terrific  stiff -legged  jump — a  "buck,"  Mr.  Wilson 
called  it — and  when  he  came  down,  Gu}',  with  his  arms 
and  legs  flying  wildly  about,  went  up  like  a  rocket, 
hung  suspended  in  the  air  for  a  moment,  and  then 
whirled  over  and  came  down  on  his  head  and  shoulders 
with  a  crushing  force. 

"  Wal,  I  deciar !  he  got  you  off'n  him  that  time,  didn't 
he?"  exclaimed  the  ranchman,  hastening  to  Guy's  assist- 
ance. "  Now  I'll  try  him,  an'  if  you  will  keep  an  eye 
on  me  I'll  larn  you  how  to  ride  a  buck-jumj^er." 

Guy  was  too  nearly  senseless  to  keep  an  eye  on  any- 
thing. He  could  not  stand  without  holding  fast  to 
something.  Mr.  Wilson  leaned  him  up  against  the  side 
of  the  corral  as  if  he  had  been  a  stick  of  wood,  and  then 
addressed  an  order  in  Spanish  to  his  vacquero,  who 
hurried  ofl^  to  the  house,  presently  returning  with  a 
pair  of  huge  Mexican  spurs.  These,  with  the  assistance 
of  the  Indian,  the  ranchman  quickly  fastened  to  his  feet, 
and  walking  up  to  the  horse,  which  had  scarcely  moved 
from  his  tracks  since  he  rid  himself  of  Guy,  placed  one 
hand  on  his  back,  and  with  a  quick  bound,  sprung  into 
the  saddle.  No  sooner  was  he  fairly  seated  than  he 
brought  his  armed  heels  against  the  sides  of  the  animal. 


GUY    THE  k O UGH  RIDER.  187 

which  sprung  away  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  and  the  last 
Guy  saw  of  him,  he  was  making  rapid  headway  across 
the  plain,  while  his  rider  was  urging  him  to  greater 
efforts  by  merciless  applications  of  his  persuaders. 

When  the  ranchman  returned,  at  the  end  of  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  he  found  his  new  hand  stretched  out  on  the 
porch,  suffering  from  a  severe  headache,  and  in  no 
humor  to  listen  to  his  description  of  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  conquered  the  buck-jumper. 

Guy  had  been  hungry  a  few  minutes  before,  but  he 
did  not  want  any  supper  now.  The  tortillas,  beans  and 
beef,  with  which  the  table  was  loaded,  had  no  attraction 
for  him;  he  simply  drank  a  cup  of  coifee,  without  any 
milk  (ranchmen  in  California  raise  cattle  for  the  hides 
and  meat,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  milk  and  butter),  and 
intimated  to  Mr.  Wilson  that  he  would  be  glad  to  be 
shown  to  his  room. 

"Eh?"  exclaimed  the  ranchman,  as  if  he  did  not 
quite  understand  his  request. 

"I  say  I  should  like  to  go  to  my  room,"  repeated 
Guy.     ''  I  want  to  see  if  I  can't  sleep  olf  this  headache." 

"  Oh,  you  want  to  go  to  bed,  do  you?     All  right." 

As  Mr.  Wilson  said  this,  he  walked  out  into  the  yard 
to  light  his  pipe  at  the  fire  over  which  the  sup|)er  had 
been  cooked,  and  when  he  came  back  he  carried  over  his 
shoulder  a  saddle,  which  he  placed  at  one  end  of  the 
porch.  Then  he  went  into  the  house  and  brought  out 
Guy's  blanket  and  poncho;  and  when  he  had  spread 
them  beside  the  saddle,  the  bed  was  made. 

"  Thar  you  are,"  said  he,  "an' you  can  tumble  down 
as  soon  as  you  please." 

Guy  was  astonished.  The  porch  was  the  only  room 
he  was  to  occupy  while  he  remained  in  that  house,  and 
his  saddle  and  blankets  were  to  foru^  his  bed.  This  was 
rather  a  primitive  way  of  living,  but  it  was  the  style  at 
Mr.  Wilson's  rancho,  as  he  found  when  the  rest  of  the 
family  were  ready  to  retire.  The  farmer's  wife  and 
cliildren  stowed  themselves  away  somewhere  in  the 
house,  but  the  man  himself  made  his  bed  a  short  dis- 


18S  GUY  HARkiS. 

tance  from  Guy's,  while  two  Indian  herdsmen  found 
sleeping  apartments  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  porch. 

The  first  part  of  the  night  Guy  passed  in  anything  but 
an  agreeable  manner.  The  saddle  proved  to  be  a  hard, 
uncomfortable  pillow  for  an  aching  head  and,  more- 
over, one  of  the  small  army  of  dogs,  which  Mr.  Wilson 
kept  about  the  house,  insisted  on  occupying  a  portion  of 
his  bed,  and  showed  a  disposition  to  be  snapj^ish  if  the 
boy  happened  to  crowd  him  as  he  tossed  uneasily  about. 
Guy  stood  the  imposition  for  a  while,  but  becoming 
angry  at  last,  he  kicked  the  dog  ofE  the  porch,  re- 
arranged his  bed,  folded  his  jacket  and  spread  it  over 
the  saddle,  and  then  lay  down  again  and  slept  soundly 
until  he  was  awakened  by  footsteps  and  the  continued 
murmur  of  conversation. 

He  opened  his  eyes  to  find  that  it  was  broad  daylight, 
and  that  preparations  were  being  made  to  start  him  otf 
on  his  journey.  There  was  the  "old  clay-bank,"  a 
cream-colored  mare,  which  was  to  carry  the  supplies  to 
Zeke,  the  buffalo  hunter,  and  act  as  Guy^s  guide  at  the 
same  time.  A  large  jDack-saddle  was  strapped  on  her 
back,  and  if  one  might  judge  by  the  appearance  of  it,  it 
was  well  filled.  The  buck-jamper  was  there,  too,  stand- 
ing quietly  by  the  horse-trough,  saddled  and  bridled, 
and  waiting  for  his  rider.  Guy's  rifle  leaned  against 
the  wall  at  the  head  of  his  bed,  with  his  powder-horn, 
game-bag,  a  pair  of  spurs,  and  a  long  rawhide  hanging 
from  the  muzzle. 

"Halloo!  you're  awake  at  last,  are  you?"  exclaimed 
the  ranchman,  who  just  then  stepped  out  of  the  house 
to  arouse  Guy.  "  I  thought  that  seein'  you  had  the 
headache  I'd  let  you  sleep  this  mornin',  but  it's  time  to 
get  up  now." 

Guy  scrambled  to  his  feet,  looking  none  the  worse  for 
his  accident  of  the  night  before,  and  when  he  had 
dipped  his  head  in  the  horse-trough  a  few  times,  he  felt 
as  sprightly  and  vigorous  as  though  he  had  never  told  a 
lie,  and  received  in  consequence  the  hardest  fall  of  his 
life. 


GUY,    THE  ROUGH  RIDER.  189 

The  morning  was  fresh  and  glorious,  as  mornings  al- 
ways are  in  California  at  that  season  of  the  3'ear,  the  air 
was  exhilarating — every  breath  of  it  seemed  to  infuse 
new  life  into  him — and  Guy  was  elated  with  the  pros- 
pect of  a  pleasant  journey  and  an  interview  with  the 
buffalo  hunter,  who  was  the  very  man  he  most  wished  to 
see.  He  could  have  looked  forward  to  a  day  of  uninter- 
rujDted  enjoyment  but  for  one  thing,  and  that  was  the 
presence  of  the  buck-jumper.  It  had  a  depressing  ef- 
fect upon  him.  He  did  not  see  why  the  ranchman 
should  give  him  that  horse  to  ride  when  he  had  so  nearly 
dashed  his  brains  out  the  night  before. 

"  Come  in  an'  get  some  coffee  an'  slapjacks,"  said  Mr. 
Wilson,  at  the  same  time  tossiiig  Guy  a  piece  of  a  gunny 
sack  on  which  to  wipe  his  hands  and  face. 

The  boy's  appetite  having  come  back  to  him  by  this 
time,  he  made  a  hearty  breakfast,  and  while  he  was  eat- 
ing it,  listened  to  his  employer's  advice  and  instructions 
concerning  the  journey  he  was  about  to  undertake. 

''Zeke  is  forty  miles  away,  as  I  told  3'ou,"  said  the 
ranchman,  "^an'  as  your  trail,  part  of  the  way,  leads 
over  the  mountains,  you  won't  be  able  to  travel  very 
fast;  but  the  ole  clay-bank  is  a  right  smart  walker,  an' 
if  you  have  no  bad  luck  you  had  oughter  be  in  Zeke's 
camp  by  four  this  arternoon.  About  midday  you'll 
cross  Deer  Eun,  an'  thar  the  mar'  will  want  to  stop  an' 
pick  about  a  bit,  an'  while  she's  doin'  it,  you  can  set 
down  under  a  tree  an'  eat  your  dinner.  You'll  see 
plenty  of  antelojDe  thar,  an'  5'ou'll  have  no  sort  of  trouble 
in  knockin'  over  one  fur  your  dinner,  if  you  know  how 
to  hunt  'em  ;  but  fur  fear  you  don't,  I've  put  a  leetle 
something  in  your  game-bag.  You'd  best  kill  an  ante- 
lope, howsomever,  if  you  get  the  chance,  'cause  mebbe 
it'll  help  you  to  make  friends  Avitli  Zeke." 

'^How  shall  I  know  him  Avlien  I  see  him?"  asked 
Guy. 

"  Know  him!"  said  the  ranchman.  "  The  mar'll  know 
him,  an'  he'll  know  the  mar.  The  fust  question  he'll 
ask  you  will  be,  '  You  got  any  tobacker  in  that  thar 


190  GUY  HARRIS. 

pack-saddle?'  When  you  see  a  man  who  says  that  to 
you,  tell  him  'hallo/  ^cause  that's  Zeke.  He'll  be  a  leetle 
trifle  cross  an'  ugly  at  fust,  'cause  he's  been  outen  to- 
backer  now  three  or  four  days;  but  a  chaw  or  tv/o  will 
set  him  all  right,  an'  you'll  find  him  a  mighty  palaverin' 
sort  o'  feller,  I  want  you  back  by  to-morrer  night  so 
that  you  can  take  your  fust  lesson  in  the  store  on  Sun- 
day." 

"■  I  should  be  much  more  eager  to  undertake  the  jour- 
ney if  I  had  a  gentler  horse  to  ride,"  said  Guy. 

"A  gentler  hossi"  repeated  the  ranchman,  opening 
his  eyes  in  amazement.  "It  can't  be  found  on  this 
farm  nor  in  Calif orny  nuther,  a  gentler  boss  than  that 
thar  boss  can't.     Why,  a  baby  could  ride  him." 

"  But  I  am  out  of  practice,  you  know,"  said  Guy 
meekly. 

"  Yes,  I  seed  that ;  but  you  won't  have  no  trouble 
while  the  ole  clay-bank  is  with  him.  He'll  go  along 
like  an  old  cow." 

Guy's  fears  were  by  no  means  set  at  rest  by  this  assur- 
ance, but  he  raised  no  further  objections  to  the  horse, 
and  haviug  satisfied  his  appetite,  he  arose  from  his  cliair 
and  begun  preparations  for  his  journey,  in  which  he  was 
assisted  by  the  ranchman.  His  poncho  and  blanket 
were  rolled  iip  and  strapped  behind  his  saddle  ;  the 
game-bag  containing  his  dinner  Avas  suspended  from  the 
2:)ommel ;  his  spurs  were  adjusted  ;  the  long  rawhide, 
which  was  intended  as  a  persuader  for  the  clay-bank, 
was  tied  to  his  wrist  by  a  thong  of  buckskin;  and  when 
Guy,  after  the  display  of  a  great  deal  of  awkwardness, 
had  managed  to  seat  himself  in  the  saddle,  the  farmer 
handed  him  his  rifle  and  spoke  to  the  mare,  which  set 
off  at  a  rapid  Avalk,  the  buck-jumjier  following  quietly 
at  her  heels. 

Guy  ought  to  have  been  supremely  happy  now,  for 
he  was  in  the  very  situation  he  had  so  often  dreamed  of 
and  longed  for.  He  had  a  "good  horse  under  him,"  a 
"trusty  rifle  on  his  shoulder,"  and  everything  that  was 
necessary  to  set  him  up  in  business  as  a  hunter.     But 


GUV,    THE  ROUGH  RIDER.  191 

still  things  were  not  jnst  to  his  liking — there  were  al- 
ways some  drawbacks. 

In  the  first  place  horseback-riding  Avas  by  no  means 
the  easy,  agreeable  way  of  getting  over  the  ground  that 
he  had  imagined  it  to  be,  particularly  to  one  who  was 
entirely  unaccustomed  to  it  and  who  did  not  know  how 
to  sit  in  a  saddle. 

The  buck-jumper  may  have  been  very  fleet,  but  he 
was  an  uncommon  hard  traveler,  especially  when  he 
found  it  necessary  to  quicken  his  pace  in  order  to  keej) 
up  with  the  fast-walking  old  clay-bank.  On  these 
occasions  he  exhibited  a  style  of  progression  peculiarly 
his  own,  and  which  was  j^erfect  torture  to  his  rider,  who 
was  churned  up  and  down,  jerked  backward  and  for- 
ward, and  jolted  from  side  to  side  in  a  way  that  was 
quite  alarming. 

Then,  too,  the  horse  showed  by  the  way  he  sometimes 
arched  his  back  and  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  Guy 
that  there  was  plenty  of  mischief  in  him  still,  and  every 
few  minutes  he  Avould  further  exhibit  it  by  making  a 
jum])  to  one  side  or  the  other,  and  doing  it  so  quickly 
that  Guy  would  certainly  have  been  thrown  to  the 
ground  had  he  not  clung  with  all  his  strength  to  the 
horn  of  the  saddle.  The  reason  for  this  Avas  that  Guy, 
forgetting  he  had  spurs  on,  kept  his  heels  close  to  the 
animaFs  side  in  order  to  secure  a  tirm  seat,  and  thus  the 
rowels  were  pricking  him  continually. 

Another  thing  that  seA'erely  tested  his  patience  and 
endurance  Avas  his  rifle.  If  it  Aveighed  tAvelve  pounds 
when  he  left  the  rancho,  it  Aveighed  a  hundred  before  he 
had  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  judging  b}^  the  Avay  it 
pressed  into  his  shoulders  and  made  his  arms  ache. 

Guy  felt  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction  in  carrying  the 
Aveapon  about  Avith  him,  for  it  Avas  the  first  thing  of  the 
kind  he  had  ever  owned;  but  at  the  end  of  a  mile  he 
Avished  most  heartily  that  he  had  left  it  at  the  rancho. 

At  the  end  of  tAvo  miles  he  told  himself  that  if  he  Avere 
ever  required  to  make  this  journey  again,  he  would  leave 
his  horse  at  home  and  follow  the  clay-bank  on  foot.     At 


103  GUV  HARRIS. 

the  eiid  of  three  he  came  to  the  conchision  that  he  had 
mistaken  his  calling;  and  by  the  time  he  had  put  four 
miles  between  himself  and  Mr.  Wilson's  rancho,  he 
wished  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  that  he  Avas  back  on 
board  the  Santa  Maria. 

At  last,  when  Guy  could  endure  it  no  longer,  he  set 
himself  at  work  to  find  some  way  to  alleviate  his  misery. 
He  saw  hanging  from  the  horn  of  his  saddle  a  lariat  witli 
which  the  thoughtful  ranchman  had  provided  him,  so 
that  he  might  stake  out  his  horse  Avhen  he  went  into 
camp.  With  this  he  formed  a  sling  for  his  rifle,  and 
tied  tlie  weapon  securely  to  his  saddle.  This  eased  his 
arms  and  shoulders,  and  to  relieve  the  rest  of  his  tired 
muscles  he  jumped  down  and  walked  a  mile  or  two;  and 
so,  by  alternate  riding  and  walking,  finally  reached  Deer 
Run,  where  he  was  to  stop  and  rest  wliile  the  clay-bank 
was  "picking  about." 

Following  the  instructions  of  his  employer,  he  staked 
out  his  own  horse,  leaving  the  mare  to  do  as  she  pleased, 
and,  too  tired  to  eat  or  do  anything  else  with  comfort, 
threw  himself  on  the  grass  under  the  spreading  branches 
of  a  live  oak,  and  heartily  wished  himself  among  civilized 
people  once  more.  He  thought  of  the  antelope  which 
the  ranchman  had  told  him  ho  would  here  find  in  abun- 
dance, but  was  much  too  dispirited  to  make  any  effort  to 
secure  one.  Besides,  his  ritle  was  empty,  and  he  did  not 
know  how  to  load  it. 

"'  And  if  it  was  loaded  I  would  not  know  how  to  shoot 
it," thought  Guy;  "and  neither  do  I  k,now  how  to  hunt 
antelope.  I've  heard  that  it  takes  one  who  understands 
their  nature  and  habits  to  hunt  them  successfully,  so  I 
guess  I  won't  bother  with  them.  I'd  rather  rest.  I  be- 
lieve Mr.  Wilson  told  the  truth  when  he  said  that  I 
hadn't  the  right  sort  of  stuff  in  me  to  make  a  hunter  or 
trapper.  They  must  be  made  of  something  besides  flesh 
and  blood  if  they  can  stand  such  a  jolting  as  I  have  liad 
to-day." 

Guy  rolled  restlessly  about  under  the  oak  Avhile  the 
clay-bank  was  cropping  the  grass,  and  when  she  had 


GUY,    THE  ROUGH  RIDER.  I93 

eaten  lier  fill  she  gave  him  notice  of  the  fact  by  slaking 
her  thirst  at  the  run  and  setting  off  on  her  journey  again 
of  her  own  accord.  With  a  groan  of  despair  Guy 
mounted  his  horse  and  followed  her. 

The  tortures  he  had  already  experienced  were  aggra- 
vated ten-fold  during  the  afternoon;  for  the  trail,  which 
had  hitherto  led  him  orer  a  level  j^lain,  now  crossed  a 
range  of  hills  almost  higli  enough  to  be  called  mount- 
ains, and  the  traveling  was  rough  indeed.  The  sudden 
springs  and  lunges  which  his  horse  made  in  going  up  the 
steep  ascent  racked  him  in  every  muscle.  Only  once  did 
he  dismount  to  walk,  and  then  he  was  glad  to  scramble 
back  into  his  saddle  again,  for  the  tireless  horses  went 
ahead  at  such  a  rate  that  he  could  not  keep  pace  with 
them.  Ui3  hill  and  down  he  went,  through  a  wilderness 
which  seemed  to  have  no  end;  and  when  at  last  he 
became  so  exhausted  that  it  was  only  by  a  strong  exercise 
of  will  that  he  could  keep  himself  in  his  saddle,  he  was 
electrified  by  the  appeai-ance  of  an  apparition  in  greasy 
buckskin,  who  came  before  him  so  suddenly  that  it 
frightened  him. 

"Say,  you!"  it  exclaimed,  "you  brought  any  to- 
backer?" 

Guy  had  reached  his  journey's  end  at  last. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE    BUFFALO    HUNTER. 

S  GUY  straightened  np  in  his  saddle  he 
took  a  good  look  at  the  man  who  had  so  sud- 
denly appeared  before  him.  There  was  no 
need  that  he  should  ask  who  he  Avas,  for  he 
knew^  by  his  words  of  greeting,  that  he  could  be  none 
other  than  Zeke,  the  buffalo  hunter.  He  was  the  first 
hunter  Guy  had  ever  seen,  and  of  course  he  gazed  at  him 
with  no  little  interest. 

He  was  not  very  favorably  impressed  with  the  man's 
appearance,  for  he  was  certainly  the  roughest  and  most 
rejDulsive  specimen  of  humanity  that  Guy  had  ever  put 
eyes  on.  He  could  form  no  idea  of  the  expression  of  his 
features,  for  his  face  was  so  effectually  concealed  by 
thick,  bushy  whiskers  that  nothing  but  a  pair  of  eyes 
and  a  low,  retreating  forehead  could  be  seen.  His  hair, 
coarse  and  matted,  hung  down  upon  his  shoulders,  and 
his  hiinds  were  terribly  soiled  and  begrimed.  He  would 
have  been  a  tall  man  if  lie  had  stood  erect,  but  he  walked 
almost  half-bent,  in  an  attitude  similar  to  that  a  wild 
beast  might  assume  when  about  to  spring  upon  its  prey, 
and  moved  along  in  a  shambling,  loose-jointed  manner, 
as  if  he  had  scarcely  enei'gy  enough  to  keep  himself  from 
falling  to  pieces.  His  garments  were  a  strange  mixture 
of  the  civilized  and  savage,  and  Guy  thought  they  ought 
long  ago  to  have  been  replaced  by  better  ones.  He  wore 
a  tattered  slouch  hat  on  his  head,  held  a  rifle  in  his  hand, 
and  carried  a  powder-horn  and  bullet-pouch  over  his 
shoulder.  Taken  altogether,  he  was  very  unlike  Guy's 
heau  ideal  of  a  hunter. 

'^Say,  you!"  repeated  Zeke  impatiently;  "you  got  any 
tobacker?     That's  what  I  want  ter  know." 

"  Plenty  of  it,"  replied  Guy.     "  You'll  find  it  in  the 


GUY,    THE  ROUGH  RIDER.  195 

pack-saddle.  Mi-.  Wilson  thought  you  would  want  a 
good  sujDply." 

"Then  why  didn't  he  send  it  afore?"  growled  the 
hunter. 

"  He  sent  it  as  soon  as  he  could.  He  came  from 
Frisco  only  yesterday," 

Zeke  leaned  his  rifle  against  the  nearest  tree,  plunged 
his  hands  into  the  pack-saddle,  and  while  he  was  search- 
ing for  the  tobacco,  repeatedly  ran  his  eyes  over  the  face 
and  figure  of  the  boy,  Avho  seemed  to  be  a  great  curiosity 
to  him. 

He  said  nothing,  however,  until  he  had  found  a  plug 
of  the  coveted  weed,  and  thrust  a  good  portion  of  it  into 
his  cheek.  After  he  had  chewed  on  it  a  while  the  effects 
became  perceptible.  The  discontented,  almost  savage, 
look  his  face  had  v/orn,  gave  place  to  an  expression  a 
trifle  more  amiable,  and  when  he  spoke  his  voice 
sounded  more  like  a  human  being's,  and  less  like  the 
growl  of  an  angry  bear. 

"■  Who  be  you?"  he  demanded.  "  I  never  seed  yon  in 
these  parts  afore." 

"No,"  said  Guy,  "you  never  did.  My  name  is  Har- 
ris, and  I  'ised  to  be  a  sailor;  but  I'm  a  hunter  now." 

"You!"  exclaimed  Zeke,  with  undisguised  contempt 
in  his  tones  and  looks.     What  do  you  hunt — squirrels?" 

"Well,  I  have  never  hunted  anything  yet,"  said  Guy, 
who  thought  it  best  to  tell  the  truth;  "  but  I  want  to  be 
a  buffalo  hunter  like  yoa;  so  I  hoi)e  that  we  shall  be 
fast  friends,  and  that  you  will  teach  me  all  you  know. 
Will  you  ?" 

"  Humph!"  grunted  Zeke.     "  Let's  go  to  camp." 

"  How  far  is  it  from  here?"  asked  Guy. 

"  A  matter  ot  five  mile,  mebbe.  I  got  tired  of  waiting 
an'  come  up  to  see  if  thar  was  anybod}^  goii^'  to  fetch 
me  any  tobacker." 

"Five  miles?"  echoed  Guy.  "  1  am  almost  tired  out 
with  riding,  and  should  be  glad  to  walk  it  the  horses  did 
not  go  so  fast." 

"  Let  'em  go,"  said  Zeke.  "  I'll  walk  with  you.  The 
mar'  knows  the  way,  an'  the  other'll  toiler. " 


196  GUY  HA  KRIS. 

Gruy  was  glad  to  act  upon  this  suggestion.  While  he 
was  dismounting,  the  hunter  picked  up  his  rifle  and 
examined  it  with  a  critical  eye.  Guy  was  astonished  at 
the  ease  with  which  he  drew  it  up  to  his  face,  and 
the  steadiness  with  which  he  held  it  while  glancing 
along  the  barrel. 

"  This  your'n?"  asked  Zeke. 

"^  Yes;  I  bought  it  in  Frisco — paid  fifteen  dollars  for 
it,  and  haven't  had  time  to  shoot  it  yet.  Suppose  you 
try  it,  and  see  if  it  is  a  good  one.  Here  are  the  bullets, 
powder  and  caps  in  my  game-bag.  It  carries  a  ball 
large  enough  to  kill  a  buffalo — doesn't  it?" 

^'  Sartin." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  will  give  me  a  chance  to  try  it  on 
one  some  day,  Avill  you  ?" 

"Humph!"  was  the  answer  Zeke  deigned  to  give. 

In  accordance  with  Guy's  request  the  hunter  pro- 
ceeded to  load  the  rifle,  and  as  the  boy  knew  that  it  was 
one  of  the  first  tilings  he  must  learn,  he  kept  a  close 
watch  of  his  movements. 

Zeke  first  took  from  the  game-bag  a  bullet,  which  he 
placed  in  the  palm  of  his  liaiid,  and  then  from  the  horn 
poured  powder  enough  on  it  to  cover  it.  This  done  he  put 
the  bullet  into  his  mouth,  and  after  pouring  the  powder 
down  the  barrel  and  hitting  the  weapon  a  knock  or  two 
on  the  ground  to  drive  it  into  the  tube,  begun  searching 
in  Guy's  game-bag  for  something. 

Failing  to  find  the  article,  v/hatever  it  was,  he  took 
from  the  string  which  hung  suspended  from  his  button- 
hole, a  small  piece  of  thick  cloth,  which  Guy  saw  Avas 
greased  on  one  side.  This  the  hunter  placed  over  the 
muzzle  of  the  rifle — the  greased  side  down — put  the 
bullet  uiDon  it,  and  drove  it  home  with  the  ramrod.  It 
was  all  done  then  except  putting  on  the  cap,  and  that 
occupied  scarcely  more  than  a  second's  time. 

Taken  altogether  it  Avas  a  complicated  operation,  Guy 
thought,  and  he  did  not  know  whether  he  could  remem- 
ber all  the  details  or  not.  He  found  that  he  had  for- 
gotten one  thing,  and  that   was  the   cloth   Avhich  the 


THE  BUFFALO  HUNTER.  If)*^ 

Ininter  wrapped  around  the  bullet.  No  doubt  that  was 
the  "patching"  he  had  often  read  about. 

When  the  rifle  was  loaded  the  hunter  raised  it  to  his 
shoukler  and  started  down  the  trail,  Guy  following  with 
his  game-bag  in  one  hand  and  Zeke's  rifle  in  the  other. 
He  was  anything  but  pleased  at  the  manner  in  which  his 
advances  had  been  received,  but  still  he  was  not  dis- 
heartened by  it. 

No  doubt  the  hunter  was  wearied  with  his  day's  work 
— Guy  knew  that  he  had  been  in  the  saddle  ever  since 
sunrise  watching  the  cattle  under  his  charge — and  per- 
haps after  the  tobacco  had  had  time  to  have  its  full 
effect,  and  Zeke  had  taken  a  good  supper  and  smoked 
a  pipe,  he  would  be  better-natured.  Then  Guy  could 
make  another  effort  to  work  his  way  into  his  good 
graces. 

While  on  the  way  to  the  valley  in  which  Zeke's  camp 
was  located,  Guy  had  frequent  opportunities  to  witness 
his  companion's  skill  with  the  rifle.  Squirrels  were 
abundant,  and  the  hunter,  without  leaving  the  trail, 
succeeded  in  bringing  down  a  dozen  or  more,  and  every 
one  of  them  shot  through  the  head.  This  was  Guy's 
first  lesson  in  hunting,  and  he  watched  every  move 
Zeke  made.  He  now  saw  how  the  man  came  by  that 
stealthy,  crouching  style  of  progression  which  he  had 
noticed.  He  had  practiced  it  so  often  while  in  j)ursuit 
of  game  that  it  had  become  a  part  of  his  nature. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountains  the  woods  termi- 
nated, and  of  course  there  were  no  squirrels  to  be  found 
on  the  open  plain.  By  the  time  they  reached  this 
point  the  tobacco,  aided  perhaps  by  the  fine  shooting 
he  had  enjoyed,  was  beginning  to  tell  upon  the  hunter, 
who  showed  a  disposition  to  throw  off  his  reserve  alto- 
gether. He  found  his  way  to  Guy's  heart  by  assuring 
him  that  his  rifle  was  as  "fine  a  we'pon  as  he  had 
ever  drawed  to  his  face,"  and  followed  it  up  by  in- 
qiriring  very  particularly  into  the  boy's  history.  And 
Guy  was  quite  Avilling  to  tell  him  everything  he  wanted 
to  know.     He  told  him  how  long  he  had  been  away 


108  Guy  HARRIS. 

from  liome,  why  he  had  left  it,  what  he  had  done 
.since  he  had  been  adrift  in  the  world,  and  what  he 
wanted  to  do  next.  Being  anxious  to  make  a  friend 
of  the  hunter  he  concealed  nothing,  not  even  the  fact 
that  he  had  twenty-five  dollars  in  money,  Avhich  he 
was  willing  to  tui'n  over  to  Zeke  to  be  expended  in 
any  Avay  the  latter  saw  fit,  so  long  as  it  benefited 
them  both. 

The  hunter  became  more  and  more  interested  as  Guy 
proceeded,  and  the  mention  of  the  money  and  the  sight 
of  the  purse  the  boy  carried  about  his  neck  broke  down 
the  last  barrier  between  them.  tSuddenly  stopping  and 
facing  Guy,  he  extended  to  him  one  of  his  huge,  dirty 
paws. 

"  Put  it  thar,  pard,''  said  he.     "  I'll  take  you." 

'"^  Will  you,  really?"  exclaimed  Guy,  almost  beside 
himself  with  excitement  and  delight. 

"  Sartin  I  will.  I've  been  a-lookin'  an'  a-waitin'  fur 
two  years  in  hopes  some  feller  would  come  along  Avho 
would  do  fur  a  chum,  an'  here  he  is,  come  at  last. 
You're  just  the  chap  fur  me.  I'll  make  you  the  best 
buffaler  hunter  that  Kansas  ever  seed.  I'll  larn  you  to 
ride  an'  shoot,  an'  make  a  man  of  you." 

"And  will  you  teach  me  how  to  fight  Indians  and 
catch  wild  hoi'ses?"  asked  Guy. 

"^In  course  I  will." 

''  How  far  is  Kansas  from  here?" 

*'  Wal,  it's  a  right  smart  jDiece." 

^'  Shall  we  go  there  on  horseback?" 

^SSartin." 

^'And  camp  out  on  the  way?" 

^^In  course." 

^MVhen  shall  we  start?" 

"We'll  be  on  our  way  to-morrow  night." 

"To-morrow  night!"  repeated  Guy.  "Why,  Mr. 
Wilson  told  me  that  he  never  hired  a  man  without  mak- 
ing him  promise  to  give  at  least  a  month's  notice  when 
he  wanted  to  quit." 

"  What  do  I  care  for  Wilson  ?"  asked  Zeke  contemptu- 


THE  BUFFALO  HUNTER.  199 

ously.  ^' A  free  hunter  does  what  he  likes.  I  can  trust 
yon,  I  reckon." 

"  Certainly  you  can." 

"  Cause  if  I  can't^,  I  don't  want  anything  to  do  with 
you,"  said  Zeke. 

"Oh,  you  can  trust  me,  I  assure  you,"  declared  Guy 
earnestly,  fearing  that  the  hunter  was  about  to  go  back 
from  his  promise.     "  What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"I'll  tell  you  arter  supper.  I've  got  an  idee  in  my 
head  an'  want  to  put  on  my  thinkin'  cap  an'  think  it 
out;  so  don't  say  nothin'  to  me  till  I  speak.  Let's  go 
an'  eat  some  of  them  squirrels.  In  a  few  days  from  now 
we'll  be  livm'  on  buiialer  hump  an'  marrer  bones,  an 
that's  livin',  I  tell  you!  I  say  agin,  you're  jest  the  feller 
I've  been  a-lookin'  fur." 

The  hunter  relaj^sed  into  silence,  and  so  did  Guj^,  who 
marched  along  by  his  side,  and  although  he  carried  a 
ponderous  rifle  on  his  shoulder  and  a  heavy  string  of 
squirrels  in  his  hand,  he  Avalked  as  if  he  were  treading 
on  air.  He  forgot  that  he  had  that  day  ridden  forty 
miles  on  a  rough-going  horse.  He  did  not  bestow  a 
thought  upon  his  weary  body,  for  his  mind  was  too  fully 
occuiDied  with  the  future.  In  a  few  hoiirs  more,  he  kept 
saying  to  himself,  his  bright  dreams  would  all  be 
realized.  He  had  got  on  the  right  side  of  the  hunter  at 
last — there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that.  Zeke  was  as 
cordial  as  one  could  possibly  be — more  so,  in  fact,  than 
any  man  he  had  ever  before  met.  Perhaps  if  Guy  had 
been  more  experienced  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  this 
would  have  aroused  his  suspicions  and  made  him  a  little 
more  guarded  in  his  intercourse  with  his  new  friend. 
That  caution  was  necessary,  we  can  see  by  following 
Zeke  for  a  moment  in  his  meditations. 

"  If  I  hain't  found  a  way  outer  this  diffikilty  now,  I'm 
a  buffaler  myself,"  thought  the  hunter.  "  This  onsus- 
pectin'  leetle  cub  wouldn't  a-been  more  welcome  to  my 
camp  if  he'd  been  a  hangel  loaded  down  with  pijDes  an' 
tobacker  enough  to  do  me  all  my  life.  I'm  monstrous 
tired  of  herdin'  cattle,  'cause  it's  too  hard  work.     I've 


200  GUY  HARRIS. 

clone  it  fur  a  hull  month,  an'  all  I've  got  to  shoAV  fur  it 
is  my  hoss.  The  rifle  I  used,  the  powder,  lead,  an' 
blankets,  all  b'long  to  Wilson,  an'  has  got  to  be  paid  fur. 
It'll  take  me  two  months  longer  to  'arn  everything  I 
need,  an'  I  had  oughter  be  on  my  way  to  the  prairy 
now.  I  had  kinder  thought  that  mebbe  I'd  steal  the  hull 
kit  an'  put  out  with  it,  but  I'm  a'most  afeard  to  do  it. 
Wilson,  he's  lightnin'  on  wheels  when  his  dander's  riz, 
an'  he'd  have  all  the  settlers  in  the  valley  arter  me  so 
quick  that  it  would  make  a  feller's  head  swim;  an'  if 
they  ketched  me " 

Here  Zeke  threw  his  head  over  on  his  right  shoulder 
and  made  a  motion  with  his  hand  as  if  he  Avere  winding 
a  rope  about  his  neck  and  hauling  himself  up  with  it — a 
proceeding  which  made  Guy  look  at  him  in  great  sur- 
j^rise. 

"  I  didn't  say  nothin',"  said  the  hunter. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Guy,  '"'and  I  didn't  say  anything 
either." 

Zeke  shifted  Guy's  rifle  to  his  other  shoulder  and  went 
on  with  his  soliloquy. 

"Now  this  cub  has  got  a  good  fittin'  out,  a  fine  rifle, 
huntin'-knife,  blankets,  an'  powder'n  lead  enough  to  last 
me  as  fur  as  Laramie  anyways.  When  I  get  thar  the 
twenty-five  dollars  he's  got  will  buy  me  more  powder'n 
lead,  an'  the  traders  will  advance  the  other  things  I  want. 
I  can  steal  everything  he's  got  an'  put  out  as  easy  as 
fallin'  olf  a  log.  He  can't  foller  me  up  an'  ketch  me, 
an'  he  ain't  got  no  friends  to  do  it  fur  him.  I  would  be 
off  this  very  night,  only  I  must  first  make  things  squar' 
with  Wilson,  to  keep  him  off'n  my  trail.  Now  how  am 
I  goin'  to  do  it?  That's  what  I  put  my  thinkin'  cap  on 
fur,  an'  that's  what  I  want  to  think  out." 

While  Zeke  was  turning  this  problem  over  in  his  mind 
he  and  his  young  companion  arrived  at  his  camp,  which 
Avas  located  under  an  oak  tree  near  the  middle  of  a  beau- 
tiful valley.  Guy  Avould  not  have  known  Avheu  he 
reached  it  had  he  not  seen  his  OAvn  horse  and  the  mare 
grazing  near  a  third  Avhicli  Avas  picketed  a  short  distance 


THE  BUFFALO  HUN-TER.  ^01 

from  the  tree^,  for  there  was  but  little  to  indicate  the  ex- 
istence of  a  camp — nothing,  in  fact^  but  a  pair  of 
blankets,  a  small  piece  of  beef  hanging  from  one  of  the 
branches  of  the  oak,  and  a  few  embers  and  ashes  which 
marked  the  spot  where  a  fire  had  once  been  kindled. 

The  hunter  at  once  took  possession  of  the  blankets, 
where  he  lay  gazing  intently  into  the  branches  above  his 
head,  and  Guy  set  about  putting  the  camp  in  order.  It 
was  novel  business  to  him,  but  he  liked  to  do  it,  and 
^ke,  being  too  lazy  to  lift  a  finger  unless  it  was  abso- 
lutely necessary,  was  perfectly  willing  that  he  should. 

Guy  first  led  the  mare  to  the  tree,  and  begun  the  work 
of  unloading  the  pack-saddle.  The  supplies,  consisting 
for  the  most  part  of  coffee,  tea,  sugar,  flour,  and  tobacco, 
were  piled  about  the  roots  of  the  tree  and  covered  with 
branches,  as  a  slight  protection  from  the  Aveather  and 
any  prowling  beast  that  might  happen  along  during  the 
hunter's  absence. 

Then  he  relieved  the  mare  of  the  pack-saddle,  re- 
moved the  saddle  and  bridle  from  his  own  horse,  and 
after  staking  out  both  the  animals  and  arranging  his 
bed,  proceeded  to  kindle  a  fire  and  make  ready  his  sup- 
per. 

After  a  thorough  search  of  the  camp  he  found  some- 
thing which  had  evidently  done  duty  as  a  coffee-pot,  and 
when  he  had  filled  it  with  water  and  set  it  on  the  coals, 
he  stopped,  not  knoAving  what  else  to  do.  Tortillas  he 
could  not  make,  and  he  had  not  yet  learned  the  art  of 
skinning  squirrels  and  cooking  them  before  the  fire  on 
spits.  However,  he  could  get  on  without  the  squirrels. 
He  had  a  supply  of  eatables  in  his  game-bag,  and  the 
cold  bread  and  meat,  with  tbe  addition  of  a  cup  of  hot 
coffee,  would  make  him  a  good  supper.  If  the  hunter 
wanted  anything  he  could  get  up  and  cook  it  himself. 

Guy,  having  arranged  his  table  to  his  satisfaction, 
jDOured  some  of  the  coffee  into  a  cup  which  the  ranch- 
man had  been  thoughtful  enough  to  put  into  his  game- 
bag  with  luncheon,  and  settled  back  on  his  elbow,  be- 
lieving that  he  could  do  full  justice  to  the  meal,  not 


202  GUY  HARRIS. 

having  tasted  a  mouthful  since  leaving  the  rancho  sliort- 
ly  after  daylight. 

All  these  movements  had  been  closely  watched  by 
Zeke,  who  was  by  no  means  so  fully  occupied  with  his 
meditations  as  he  pretended  to  be.  Seeing  that  Guy 
was  eating  the  bread  and  meat  with  evident  relish,  he 
crawled  slowly  off  his  bed  and  joined  him  at  his  meal. 

The  supper  disappeared  rapidly  after  that,  Zeke  using 
both  hands  to  crowd  the  food  into  his  mouth,  and 
emptying  Guy's  cup  at  a  draught  whenever  he  was 
thirsty.  In  a  very  short  space  of  time  the  last  of  the 
bread  and  meat  was  out  of  sight  and  the  coffee-pot 
emptied. 

Zeke  gave  a  grunt  of  satisfaction,  but  had  nothing  to 
say  until  he  had  filled  his  pipe  and  lighted  it  with  a 
brand  from  the  fire.  Then,  between  his  long,  deliberate 
puffs,  he  managed  to  utter  the  words: 

'' I've  got  it." 

''  Got  what?"  asked  the  boy. 

'■'■  I  know  what  we'll  do.     I've  thought  my  plans  out." 

"All  right,  pard,"  said  Guy,  who  believed  that  if  he 
was  going  to  be  a  hunter  he  might  as  Avell  begin  to  use 
the  language  of  one.     "  What  are  they?     SjDit  'em  out." 

"I  can  do  that,"  said  Zeke,  "an'  it  won't  take  me 
long,  nuther.  In  the  fust  place,  I  s'pose  Wilson  told 
you  to  go  back  to-morrow,  didn't  he?  I  thought  so. 
Wal,  you  go  back  'cordin'  to  orders,  but  instead  of 
takin'  your  own  gun  an'  huntin'  rig  with  you,  take 
mine  an'  leave  your'n.  Understand?  You  see,  the 
rifle  an'  things  b'longin'  to  it  that  I've  got  here  ain't 
mine;  they're  Wilson's.  I  took  'em  outen  the  store 
agreein'  to  work  fur  'em  an'  the  other  things  I  need  to 
take  me  back  to  the  other  side  of  the  mountains  Avhar 
I  b'long  an'  Avhar  I'll  stay  if  I  onct  git  thar  agin,  I  bet 
you.  But  if  I  stop  to  'arji  everything  I  Avaut  it  will  take 
me  two  months  more,  an'  by  that  time  we  must  be 
among  the  buff'aler,  if  we're  goin'  to  get  any  hides  this 
season.  You've  got  things  enough  and  money  enough 
to  last  us  till  we  get  to  Laramie,  an'  thar  I  can  get  what 


THE  BUFFALO  HUNTER.  203 

else  "\ve  want  from  the  traders.  One  rifle  an'  one  blanket 
will  last  us  till  then." 

'MVill  one  horse  be  enough ?''  asked  Guy. 

"  No;  we  must  have  a  hoss  apiece,  an'  I've  got  'em — 
that  one  that  I  'arned  from  Wilson,  an'  I've  bought  an- 
other from  a  feller  li\in'  up  the  valley." 

It  occurred  to  Guy  right  here  to  ask  how  Zeke  could 
have  bought  another  horse,  seeing  that  he  had  no 
money  and  had  been  working  for  Mr.  Wilson  ever  since 
he  had  been  in  that  part  of  the  country,  but  before  ho 
could  speak  the  hunter  went  on; 

''Now  you  go  back  to-morrow  mornin',  like  I  was 
tellin'  you,  an'  take  the  rifle  an'  all  the  other  things  that 
b'longs  to  W^ilson,  an'  give  'em  to  him  an'  tell  him 
thar's  his  things — I  don't  want  'em — an'  he  must  send  a 
man  down  here  to  onct  to  take  care  of  these  yere  cattle, 
'cause  I  hain't  goin'  to  stay  no  longer.  You  needn't 
say  nothin'  else  to  him,  howsomever.  Don't  tell  him  of 
the  bargain  me  an'  you  has  made,  but  when  it  comes 
dark  you  slip  away  from  the  house  an'  meet  me  at  the 
water-tank.  You  know  Avhar  that  sjDoutin'  well  is,  don't 
you  ?" 

''  Yes,"  said  Guy,  '•  I  saw  it  last  night." 

''Wal,  you  come  thar  as  soon  as  it  comes  dark,  an' 
I'll  be  on  hand  with  two  bosses — this  one  an'  another, 
an'  all  we'll  have  to  do  will  be  to  put  off.    Understand  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Guy,  ''I  understand  it  all." 

'' Arter  you  leave  here  in  the  mornin'  I'll  go  an'  get 
my  other  hoss  that  I  was  a  tellin'  you  of,"  continued 
Zeke.  "  You  see  the  reason  why  I  am  leavin'  AVilson  in 
this  way,  an'  without  sayin'  nuthiu'  to  him,  is  'cause  I 
agreed  to  give  him  notice  when  I  wanted  to  quit,  but  I 
can't  afford  to  waste  a  month's  time  layin'  around  here 
doin'  nothin',  when  the  buff'aler  is  comin'  in  by  thou- 
sands an'  waitin'  to  be  shot.     Understand,  don't  you  ?" 

Yes,  Guy  was  sure  he  understood  the  hunter's  plans 
and  intentions  perfectly,  and  Zeke  was  equally  certain 
he  did  not,  and  so  he  repeated  them  again  and  again, 
until    the  boy   knew   them   by  heart.     After   that  he 


204  GUV  HARRIS. 

launched  off  into  glowing  descriijtions  of  bnffalo  hunts 
and  told  of  fights  Avith  Indians  and  bears,  and  ad- 
ventures with  wild  horses,  until  Guy  was  almost  beside 
Inmself  with  excitement  and  impatience.  Then  Zeke 
said  he  was  tired,  and  crawled  back  to  his  blankets,  but 
Guy  tended  the  fire  and  sat  by  it  for  two  hours  longer, 
thinking  of  the  future;  and  when  he  went  to  sleep  it 
was  to  dream  over  the  thrilling  scenes  the  hunter  had 
just  described  to  him. 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 

BUSTED    AND    DISGUSTED. 

HE  NEXT  morning,  after  a  hearty  breakfast, 
during  which  he  listened  once  more  to  Zeke's 
plans  and  instructions,  Guy  mounted  his 
horse,  and  led  by  the  old  clay-bank,  set  out 
for  Mr.  Wilson's  rancho. 

The  journey  did  not  seem  nearly  so  long  and  tire- 
some now  as  it  did  the  day  before,  for  he  had  some- 
thing beside  his  bodily  aches  and  pains  to  think  of.  He 
had  seen  alive  hunter,  had  made  a  friend  of  him,  and  by 
that  time  to-morrow,  if  nothing  happened  to  prevent, 
he  would  be  on  the  way  to  his  hunting-grounds.  Dream- 
ing of  the  glorious  life  he  was  so  soon  to  commence 
made  the  way  seem  short  to  him. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  drew  up 
with  his  little  train  in  front  of  Mr.  "Wilson's  hous'3, 
and  found  that  gentleman  waiting  for  him. 

"  Wal,  you  done  it,  didn't  you?"  exclaimed  the  ranch- 
man, as  Guy  swung  himself  from  the  saddle,  "  an' 
didn't  get  lost,  nor  throwed,  nuther.  Whose  rifle  have 
you  got  thar?" 

"Zeke's — or  rather  yours,"  said  Guy.  ''Zeke 
doesn't  want  it,  for  he  can't  stay  long  enough  to  earn 
it.  He's  going  back  to  his  hunting-grounds,  and 
wants  you  to  send  a  man  down  to  relieve  him." 

"Oh,  he  does,  does  he?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Wilson. 
"  Whar's  your  huntin'  kit?" 

"  I  left  it  with  Zeke.     He  wants  to  try  the  rifle." 

"  Wal,  if  you  hain't  the  most  confidin'  boy  I  ever  see 
in  all  my  tsorn  days,  I  don't  want  a  cent,"  said  the 
ranchman.  "■  I  told  you  that  you'd  find  him  a  mighty 
palaverin'  sort  of  a  feller,  an'  I  thought  that  would  put 
you  on  your  guard.     You'll  never  see  them  things  of 


206  GUY  HARRIS. 

yonr'n  agin.  Zeke's  gettin'  ready  to  run  away.  I  can 
see  that  j^lain  enough;  but  if  he  takes  any  of  my  prop- 
erty with  him,  ef  it's  even  so  much  as  a  bar  of  lead,  I'll 
have  all  the  constables  in  the  valley  arter  him  in  the 
shake  of  a  buck's  tail.  He's  'arnecl  a  boss  since  he's 
been  here,  and  that's  all  he  can  take  with  him.  I'll 
ride  down  myself,  to-morrow,  an'  see  what  he  means 
by  such  actin'. 

Mr.  Wilson's  words  made  Guy  rather  uneasy.  He 
did  not  want  to  doubt  the  hunter — Zeke  had  been 
so  very  cordial  and  so  profuse  in  his  promises  of 
friendship  and  assistance  that  the  boy  had  implicit 
faith  in  him — but  still  he  begun  to  think  that  he  had 
been  rather  hasty  in  trusting  him.  If  Zeke  run  away 
with  his  hunting-kit,  he  would  be  just  thirty-five  dollars 
out  of  pocket.  But  he  need  not  have  been  under  any 
apprehensions.  The  hunter  certainly  intended  to 
possess  himself  of  all  Guy's  property,  but  he  wanted 
at  the  same  time  to  get  his  hands  on  the  twenty-five 
dollars  the  boy  carried  in  his  monk-bag. 

Mr.  Wilson  begun  fishing  up  from  the  capacious 
depths  of  the  pack-saddle  the  things  Zeke  had  stowed 
away  there,  and  Guy  thought  he  looked  a  little  disap- 
]3ointed  when  he  found  that  his  projiert}'  had  all  been 
returned  to  him.  The  hunter,  knowing  the  disj^osition 
of  the  man  Avith  whom  he  had  to  deal,  had  sent  back 
everything. 

The  hours  between  four  o'clock  and  dark  passed  away 
very  slowly.  Knowing  that  he  had  many  a  mile  of  hard 
riding  yet  to  do  before  he  could  go  to  sleep,  Guy  re- 
freshed himself  with  a  hearty  supper,  and  then  lay 
down  on  a  bench  under  the  porch.  He  grew  very  rest- 
less and  impatient  as  the  appointed  time  drew  near,  and 
although  he  longed  for  its  arrival,  he  almost  dreaded  to 
have  it  come,  for  if  Zeke  broke  his  word,  there  Avas  an- 
other bright  hope  dashed  to  the  ground. 

It  begun  to  grow  dark  at  last,  and  Guy  stepped  doAA^n 
from  the  porch,  and  Avalked  sloAvly  toward  the  "spout- 
ing Avell,"  as  Zeke  had  called  it,  looking  back  every  few 
steps  to  make  sure  that  he  was  not  folloAved. 


BUSTED  AND  DISGUSTED.  207 

He  was  not  obliged  to  wait  even  a  moment  at  the 
water-tank,  for  liis  new  friend,  faithful  to  his  promise, 
was  there  with  two  horses.     Guy  was  greatly  relieved. 

"Halloo,  pardi"  said  he.  "I'm  glad  you  have  come, 
for  I  begun  to  feel  a  little  shaky.  Mr.  Wilson  told  me 
that  I'd  never  see  my  things  again." 

"  You  got  that  money  with  you?"  asked  Zeke. 

"  Of  course  I  have." 

"Whar  isit?" 

"  In  my  monk -bag  around  my  neck.  Have  you  got 
my  rifle  and  other  things?" 

"  Sartin.  We  couldn't  well  travel  cl'ar  to  Kansas 
without  ""em,  I  reckon.  So  Wilson  tried  to  make  you 
believe  I  was  a-goin'  back  on  you,  did  he?  What  else 
did  he  say?" 

"He  says  he  is  going  to  ride  down  to  see  you  to- 
morrow, and  find  out  what  you  mean  by  such  actions." 

"All  right.  That  will  give  us  a  hull  day  the  start  of 
him  if  he  tries  to  toiler  us.     Here's  your  boss." 

Guy  was  aching  in  every  bone  and  muscle  after  his 
long  ride  (eighty  miles  in  two  da3's  was  quite  an  achieve- 
ment for  a  boy  who  had  never  ridden  on  horseback  be- 
fore), and  it  was  only  after  considerable  trouble  and 
some  assistance  from  the  hunter  that  he  succeeded  in 
climbing  into  his  saddle.  It  was  hard  work,  too,  to 
keep  up  with  Zeke,  who  at  once  put  his  horse  into  a 
gallop  and  went  ahead,  as  if  he  were  in  a  great  hurry. 
He  never  drew  rein,  even  long  enough  to  speak  to  Guy, 
until  midnight,  and  then  the  only  reason  he  stopped 
was  because  the  moon  Avent  down  and  it  was  too  dark  to 
travel. 

He  and  Guy  stretched  themselves  out  under  a  tree  be- 
side the  road  without  lighting  a  fire,  and  slept  soundly 
until  morning.  At  the  first  peep  of  day  they  ate  a  lit- 
tle of  the  dried  beef  with  which  Zeke  had  filled  Guy's 
game-bag,  and  then  resumed  their  rapid  ride,  halting 
only  for  a  few  minutes  at  noon  to  rest  their  horses  and 
eat  a  hasty  luncheon. 

Guy  was  fast  giving  out,  in  spite  of  the  excitement 


208  G  (J  Y  HARRIS. 

which  had  tlius  far  kept  him  ujo,  and  when,  just  as  the 
sun  was  sinking,  they  entered  a  little  glade  surrounded 
by  a  wilderness  of  trees  and  rocks,  he  doggedly  threw 
himself  from  his  horse  and  declared  that  he  could  not 
ride  a  step  farther. 

"How  far  are  we  from  Mr.  Wilson's  ?"  he  asked. 

"A  matter  of  sixty  or  seventy  miles,  mebbe,"  replied 
Zeke. 

"  Well,  tliat  added  to  eighty  makes  a  hundred  and 
forty  or  fifty  miles  that  I  have  ridden  on  horseback  dur- 
ing the  last  three  days,"  groaned  Guy.  "An  iron  boy 
couldn't  stand  more.  I  dont  see  the  need  of  so  much 
haste  anyhow. '^ 

"  Thar  was  need  of  it,"  said  Zeke,  "  but  I  reckon 
we're  out  of  danger  now." 

Guy  not  being  av/are  that  they  had  been  in  any  danger, 
could  not  imagine  wdiat  Zeke  meant;  but  he  was  too 
tired  to  ask  any  questions. 

"I  reckon  we'd  best  stop  here  two  or  three  days  an' 
take  a  good  rest  and  hunt,"  continued  Zeke.  "  I'll  give 
you  some  lessons  in  shootin'  and  throwin'  the  lasso.  It 
won't  take  me  long  to  learn  you  to  be  jest  as  good  a 
hunter  as  I  am;  an'  if  thar's  any  a-goin'  that  can  beat 
me,  I  never  seed  'em.  Now  lay  down  an'  I'll  go  out  an' 
shoot  something  fur  supper." 

"I  don't  want  any  supper,"  said  Guy.  "All  I  want 
is  rest  and  sleep.  If  the  second  mate  of  the  Santa  Maria 
had  been  pounding  me  with  a  rope's  end  for  an  hour,  I 
couldn't  be  any  nearer  used  up  than  I  am  noAV." 

Zeke  became  very  officious  all  at  once.  He  raked  to- 
gether a  pile  of  leaves  under  the  shelter  of  a  huge  rock, 
placed  Guy's  saddle  at  one  end  of  it  for  a  pillow,  and 
when  the  boy  had  stretched  his  weary  limbs  upon  the 
couch  thus  hastily  made  up  for  him,  the  hunter  threw 
his  poncho  and  blanket  over  his  shoulders,  and  tucked 
them  snugly  about  him.  Before  the  operation  was  com- 
pleted Guy  was  sound  asleep. 

He  slept  in  blissful  ignorance  of  what  was  passing  near 
him.     Once  he  thought  that  the  blankets  were  pulled. 


BUSTED  AND  DISGUSTED.  209 

cautiously  off  his  shonlclors  and  a  hand  thrust  into  liis 
pocket;  but  so  firmly  were  his  senses  locked  in  slumber 
that  he  was  not  fairly  aroused  by  these  movements.  He 
knew  nothing  for  twelve  long  hours,  and  then  he  was 
awakened  by  the  neighing  of  a  horse. 

He  started  up  feeling  very  much  refreshed,  but  almost 
dropped  back  upon  his  bed  again  when  he  saw  that  his 
monk-bag  had  been  turned  inside  out  and  was  resting  on 
his  breast. 

His  pockets,  too,  had  been  pulled  out,  and  some  of  the 
articles  they  had  contained  were  missing,  while  others 
were  scattered  about  over  the  ground.  His  rifle,  game- 
bag  and  blankets  had  disappeared,  and  even  Zeke  and 
his  horse  were  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

There  were  no  signs  that  the  hunter  had  kindled  a  fire 
during  the  night.  He  must  have  robbed  Guy  and  made 
off  as  soon  as  the  latter  was  fairly  asleep.  All  he  had 
left  him  was  the  clothes  he  had  on  his  back,  the  horse 
he  had  ridden,  and  the  saddle  and  bridle. 

Guy  realized  his  situation  the  instant  his  eyes  Avere 
fairly  opened.  Utterly  discouraged  at  last,  he  threw 
himself  back  upon  the  ground,  wishing  from  the  bottom 
of  his  heart  that  he  was  dead. 

"  I've  been  robbed!  I've  been  robbed!"  he  kept  saying 
to  himself.  "And  here  I  am  in  these  mountains  with- 
out a  bite  to  eat  or  a  friend  to  help  me!  What  shall  I 
do!  what  shall  I  do!'^ 

Guy  lay  for  fully  an  hour  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  from 
which  he  was  aroused  at  last  by  the  pangs  of  hunger. 
There  Avas  no  need  that  he  should  stay  there  and  starve, 
he  told  himself,  while  Zeke  had  been  considerate  enough 
to  leave  him  a  horse.  Perhaps  the  animal  could  carry 
him  to  some  human  habitation.  The  experiment  was  at 
least  worth  a  trial. 

The  horse  proved  to  be  very  uneasy,  and  Guy,  being 
unaccustomed  to  such  business,  was  nearly  half  an  hour 
in  putting  the  saddle  and  bridle  on  him.  But  at  last  he 
got  everything  fixed  to  his  satisfaction,  and  climbing 
upon  the  animal's  back,  he  started — he  knew  not 
whither. 


210  GUY  HARRIS. 

After  trying  in  vain  to  find  a,  road  or  trail  leading 
from  the  glade,  he  plunged  blindly  into  the  woods,  and 
during  the  next  two  days  lived  in  a  state  of  agony,  both 
of  body  and  mind,  that  I  cannot  describe.  He  rode 
while  daylight  lasted  without  a  mouthful  to  eat,  and 
slept  at  night  on  the  hard  ground. 

Sometimes  he  would  alloAV  his  horse  to  have  his  own 
way,  believing  that  the  animal's  instinct  would  lead  him 
out  of  the  wilderness,  and  then  again  he  would  resume 
contrc^  of  him,  and  try  to  find  his  own  way  out. 

How  often  during  those  two  days  did  Guy  tell  himself 
that  if  he  lived  to  get  out  of  that  scrape  he  would  lose 
not  an  hour  in  starting  for  the  States;  and  if  he  once 
reached  them  he  would  never  again  be  tempted  to  leave 
them. 

He  had  seen  enough  of  the  woods,  and  of  the  ocean, 
too.  Other  boys  might  think  as  they  pleased,  and 
story-tellers  might  write  as  they  pleased  about  the  joys, 
the  ease  and  romance  of  a  hunter's  and  a  sailor's  life,  but 
as  for  him,  give  him  a  quiet  home  on  shore  and  among 
civilized  people. 

At  last,  when  Guy  was  so  weak  with  fasting  that  he 
could  scarcely  keep  his  seat  in  the  saddle,  and  so  dis- 
heartened that  he  Avas  more  than  once  on  the  point  of 
throwing  himself  under  the  nearest  tree  and  resigning 
himself  to  his  fate,  his  deliverance  came,  and  so  suddenly 
that  it  almost  took  his  breath  away.  His  horse,  which 
during  the  last  few  hours  had  been  allowed  to  go 
where  he  pleased,  plunged  through  an  almost  impassable 
thicket  of  bushes,  carrying  his  rider  into  a  broad,  well- 
beaten  road  that  led  down  the  mountains. 

The  animal  seemed  as  delighted  at  this  evidence  of 
civilization  as  Guy  did.  Xo  sooner  was  he  fairly  in  the 
road  than  he  broke  into  a  gallop,  and  in  less  than  five 
minutes  brought  his  rider  to  a  little  tumble-down 
shanty,  where  half  a  dozen  miners  were  lounging  on 
the  porch.  They  all  started  up  and  looked  at  Guy  in 
amazement,  seemingly  unable  to  make  up  their  minds 
whether  he  Avas  a  live  boy  or  a  ghost. 


BUSTED  AND  DISGUSTED.  gH 

^^ Halloo !''  exclaimed  one  of  the  men,  "who  on  earth 
are  yon,  and  where  did  you  come  from?'' 

''  I  have  been  lost  in  the  mountains  for  the  last  two 
days,  and  am  almost  starved  to  death/''  answered  Guy,  in 
a  faint  voice. 

"  Well,  I  should  say  you  were,  if  one  can  judge  by 
your  looks.  Come  in.  Such  as  we've  got  you're  wel- 
come to." 

The  man  approached  to  assist  Guy  to  dismount,  and  it 
was  well  he  did  so,  for  he  was  just  in  time  to  receive  him 
in  his  arms.  The  boy  was  utterly  overcome  with  weak- 
ness, and  when  he  tried  to  swing  himself  from  his  saddle 
his  head  reeled,  and  he  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground 
if  the  man  had  not  supported  him. 

''  He's  pretty  near  gone  up,"  said  one  of  the  miners, 
"  but  I  guess  a  bit  of  something  will  bring  him  around 
all  right." 

The  speaker  secured  Guy's  horse,  another  assisted  him 
into  the  house  and  seated  him  on  a  bench,  a  third 
brought  from  a  cupboard  an  abundant  supply  of  bread 
and  meat,  which  he  placed  before  him,  and  the  others 
stood  around,  waiting  with  no  little  curiosity  and  impa- 
tience to  hear  his  story. 

The  miners  had  seen  any  number  of  hungry  men  since 
they  had  been  in  the  mountains,  but  that  was  the  first 
time  they  had  ever  seen  food  disa^ijoear  so  rapidly  before 
a  boy  of  Guy's  size.  The  latter  was  perfectly  raven- 
ous. He  stopped  at  last,  not  because  he  had  eaten 
enough,  but  because  his  host  interfered  and  took  away 
the  eatables. 

"Thar,  now,"  said  the  man,  "you've  stowed  away 
about  enough  of  that  grub  for  this  time,  and  you  had 
better  let  up  or  you'll  bust." 

"I  am  busted  already,"  said  Guy,  wiping  his  lij)s; 
"  busted  and  disgusted." 

"  Broke?"  asked  the  man. 

"  Flat  as  a  pancake,"  said  Guy.  "  I  am  very  grateful 
for  your  kindness,  sir,  and  am  sorry  I  cannot  in  some 
way  repay  it.     I  am  able  to  go  on  now,  and  would  be 


212  GUY  HARRIS. 

glad  if  yon  would  show  me  the  nearest  road  to  the 
States/' 

"  Going  to  leave  Californy?" 

"  Just  as  fast  as  horse-flesh  can  carry  me." 

^^  But  how  did  you  come  to  get  lost?" 

Guy's  story  was  a  short  one,  and  was  soon  told.  Some 
of  the  miners  seemed  to  believe  it,  Avliile  others  looked  a 
little  incredulous.  Bat  Guy  did  not  care  for  that.  He 
had  the  best  of  evidence  that  every  word  he  uttered  was 
the  truth. 

While  he  was  telling  his  story  a  horseman  drew  up  be- 
fore the  shanty,  and  dismounting,  proceeded  to  give 
Guy's  steed  a  good  looking  over,  closely  examining  a 
brand  on  the  animal's  flank,  and  referring  occasionally 
to  a  note-book  which  he  drew  from  his  pocket.  The 
miners  watched  every  move  he  made,  now  and  then  ex- 
changing winks  with  one  another,  and  looking  toward 
Guy  in  a  way  the  latter  could  not  understand. 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

GUY    BECOMES   A   TEAMSTER. 

HIGH  of  you  owns  this  horse,"  asked,  the 
man  at  length,  thrusting  his  iiead  in  at  the 
door. 

The  question  was  addressed  to  the  party  in 
general  but  the  man  fastened  his  eyes  upon  Guy  as  if 
expecting  an  answer  from  him. 

"  He  is  in  my  possession,'"  said  the  boy,  "  but  he  be- 
longs to  Zeke." 

^^Zeke!     Zeke  who?" 

"I  don't  know  his  other  name.  He  is  a  buffalo 
hunter,  and  has  Just  started  for  Kansas." 

*'  AVhere  did  he  get  him,  do  you  know?" 

"He  bought  him  of  somebody  down  in  San  Joaquin." 

''Yes;  well,  that  story  won't  go  down,  young  man," 
said  the  new-comer,  who  was  an  officer  of  the  law. 
"  That  horse  was  stolen  down  in  San  Joaquin  a  few  days 
ago." 

"Oho!"  exclaimed  Guy's  host,  "that  accounts  for 
the  milk  in  the  cocoanut." 

"I  thought  all  the  time  that  there  was  something 
streaked  about  this  business,"  observed  another. 

"Ain't  he  a  desperate  one,  though,"  remarked  a 
third.  "  He  steals  a  horse  and  is  so  determined  to  keep 
him  that  he  stays  in  the  mountains  until  he  is  almost 
starved  to  death." 

"  Oh,  now,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about,"  cried  Guy,  who  was  frightened  almost  out  of 
his  senses.  "I  didn't  steal  that  horse.  I  got  him  just 
as  I  told  you  I  did." 

The  constable  listened  Avhile  Guy  repeated  the  story 
of  his  two  days'  acquaintance  with  the  buffalo  hunter, 
and  when  it  was  concluded  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that 


214  GUY  HARRIS. 

the  boy's  statements  would  hardly  wash,  lie  might  be 
all  right — he  wis  free  to  confess  that  Guy  didn't  look 
like  a  horse-thief — but  he  had  been  instructed  to  detain 
that  animal  if  he  found  him,  and  to  put  whoever  had 
him  in  his  possession  into  the  calaboose  and  keep  him 
there  until  the  owner  of  the  horse  could  be  sent  for;  so 
Guy  had  better  come  along  and  be  locked  uji  and  say  no 
more  about  it. 

Guy  remonstrated  loudly,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  The 
officer  Avas  firm,  and  the  boy  was  obliged  to  accompany 
him  doAvn  the  mountain  and  through  the  little  village 
that  lay  at  its  foot,  to  the  calaboose — a  small,  strongly 
built  log  cabin,  provided  with  a  heavy  oaken  door  and 
grated  windows.  There  Avas  but  room  in  the  building, 
as  Guy  found  Avhen  the  door  was  opened,  and  just  then 
it  had  no  occu23ants. 

'■'■  Now,  then,"  said  the  officer  giving  his  pi'isoner  a 
push,  "^go  in  there,  and  stay  till  the  rope  comes  up 
from  San  Joaquin.  We  hang  horse-thieves  in  this 
country." 

This  was  the  second  time  Guy  had  been  made  the  vic- 
tim of  the  man  he  had  trusted  so  implicitly.  He  under- 
stood his  situation  as  Avell  as  if  Zeke  had  been  there  to 
explain  it  to  him.  The  hunter,  not  daring  to  rob  him 
in  the  settlements  for  fear  that  Mr.  Wilson  Avould  in- 
terest himself  in  the  matter,  had  enticed  him  into  the 
mountains,  Avhere  he  could  accomplish  his  purpose  Avith- 
out  danger  to  himself.  He  had  stolen  the  horse  for  Guy 
to  ride,  and  then,  in  order  to  draAV  suspicion  from  him- 
self, had  left  him  in  the  boy's  possession.  Avell-knoAving 
that  if  he  shoAved  himself  in  the  settlements  during  the 
day-time,  he  Avould  be  arrested  and  charged  Avith  the 
theft.  And  horse-thieves  Avere  hanged  in  that  country, 
so  tlie  constable  had  told  him!  If  the  man  said  this  to 
frigliten  him,  he  certainly  succeeded  in  his  object.  Al- 
most overcome  Avith  terror  at  the  bare  thought,  Guy 
thrcAv  himself  upon  a  dirty  mattress  in  one  corner  of 
the  jail  and  cried  bitterly,  until  exhausted  nature  gave 
way  and  he  forgot  his  troubles  in  sleep. 


GUY  Secom^s  a  teamster.  215 

He  slejit  until  it  was  almost  dark,  and  was  then  awak- 
ened by  the  sound  of  voices.  He  started  \\\)  to  find  the 
door  of  his  prison  open,  and  the  entrance  crowded  with 
excited,  struggling  men.  Conspicuous  among  theni 
was  a  gigantic  fellow,  clad  like  a  miner,  whose  wrists 
and  ankles  were  loaded  with  irons.  The  others  were 
trying  to  push  him  into  the  jail,  and  he  was  trying  as 
hard  to  prevent  them.  Incumbered  as  he  was  he  fought 
desperately  for  his  liberty,  and  once  seemed  almost  on 
the  point  of  escajoiug  from  his  captors,  but  he  was  at 
last  thrown  headlong  upon  the  floor  of  the  calaboose, 
and  the  door  was  slammed  behind  him. 

Guy's  companion  in  misery  acted  more  like  a  wild 
beast  than  a  human  being.  No  sooner  had  he  gained 
his  feet  than  he  threw  himself  with  all  his  strength 
against  the  door;  but  seeing  that  he  made  no  impression 
uj)on  it,  he  turned  his  attention  to  one  of  the  windows, 
seizing  the  bars  with  his  hands  and  exerting  all  his 
strength  to  tear  them  from  their  fastenings. 

Failing  in  this,  he  drew  himself  up  by  the  bars  of  the 
window  and  butted  his  head  against  the  logs  wliicii 
formed  the  ceiling,  but  nothing  gave  way  under  his 
fierce  attacks,  and  finding  at  last  that  escape  was  im- 
possible he  fell  to  pacing  the  narrow  jail,  rattling  his 
chains  and  swearing  and  threatening  at  the  top  of  his 
voice. 

Guy  was  afraid  of  him.  Slowly  and  cautiously  he 
drew  himself  off  the  mattress,  and  retreated  into  the 
farthest  corner  of  the  room,  where  he  sat  cowering  and 
trembling  and  watching  the  movements  of  this  wild 
beast  in  human  form,  who  continued  to  pace  backward 
and  forward,  clanking  his  chains  and  uttering  impre- 
cations. Guy  was  glad  indeed  when  the  night  settled 
down  and  concealed  him  from  the  man's  sight. 

At  last  a  murmur  of  voices  outside  the  building  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  prisoner,  who  paused  in  his 
walk  and  gazed  eagerly  toward  the  door,  bending  for- 
ward in  a  listening  attitude.  The  noise  grew  louder  and 
louder.     Then  a  short  struggle  was  heard  outside  the 


216  GUV  HARRIS. 

cabin,  the  door  flew  open,  admitting  a  flood  of  light 
which  streamed  from  a  dozen  hmterns,  and  a  crowd  of 
armed  men  rushed  in.  They  seized  the  prisoner,  wound 
a  rope  about  his  neck,  and  in  sjoite  of  his  resistance 
pulled  him  out  of  the  calaboose. 

Guy,  hardly  realizing  what  was  going  on,  was  borne 
with  the  crowd,  wdiich  filled  every  corner  of  the  jail, 
out  through  the  door,  past  the  constable,  who  was 
lying  bound  and  helpless  beside  the  building,  and  up 
the  road  leading  to  the  mountains.  Then  somebody 
l)ushed  him  roughly  aside,  and  he  found  himself  stand- 
ing alone.  He  was  free,  the  road  was  open,  and  he 
could  go  where  he  pleased. 

Frightened  as  he  was,  Guy  was  prompt  to  seize  npon 
the  opportunity  for  escape  thus  unexpectedly  ofl:ered  to 
him.  Very  slowly  and  deliberately  he  drew  himself 
further  away  from  the  crowd,  and  when  the  last  man 
had  passed  him  and  hurried  up  the  mountain,  and  there 
was  no  one  in  sight  to  observe  his  movements,  he  broke 
into  a  run  and  made  the  best  of  his  way  through  the 
now  deserted  village  and  along  the  road  that  led  to  the 
plains  beyond. 

He  knew  something  about  lynch-law  now.  He  had 
received  an  illustration  of  the  manner  in  which  fron- 
tiersmen sometimes  dealt  with  oft'enders,  and  shivered 
as  if  he  had  the  ague  when  he  reflected  that  the  same 
fate  might  have  been  his  in  a  few  hours  more  had  not  a 
way  been  opened  for  his  escape. 

•'I'll  not  stay  in  this  country  an  hour  longer," 
thought  Guy,  speeding  along  the  road  as  if  he  had  been 
furnished  with  wings.  "  I  had  no  idea  that  there  were 
such  men  as  these  in  the  world.  I  wonder  if  that  con- 
stable saw  me  when  I  came  out?  I  thought  he  looked 
me  squarely  in  the  face,  and  if  he  did,  he  must  have 
recognized  me.  If  they  will  only  keep  him  tied  hard 
and  fast  until  morning,  I  don't  think  he  will  ever  catch 
me  again.     Halloo!     Great  Scott!" 

This  exclamation  was  called  forth  by  an  unexpected 
siglit  which  just  then  met  his  eyes.     It  was  a  cam2>fire, 


GUY  B£:COMES  A    TEAMSTER.  ^17 

and  he  did  not  see  it  until  he  was  close  upon  it.  Two 
covered  wagons  were  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  fire,  and 
beside  one  of  them  stood  a  stalwart  fellow  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, who  was  looking  ruefully  at  a  broken  axle-tree 
and  scratching  his  head  in  deep  perplexity.  Discover- 
ing Guy  as  he  came  up,  he  greeted  him  with : 

"  Halloo!  stranger.     May  be  you're  a  wagon-maker." 

''  No,  I  am  not,"  rejolicd  the  boy. 

"  Then  I  don't  suppose  you  could  hold  uj)  one  end  of 
this  rail  for  me  while  I  fix  this  axle,  could  you  ?"  asked 
the  emigrant. 

*•■  Yes,"  said  Gruy,  ^'I  can  do  that." 

After  casting  a  long  and  anxious  glance  down  the 
road  he  had  just  traveled  to  make  sure  that  there  was 
no  one  following  him,  Guy  walked  up  to  the  wagon  and 
held  one  end  of  the  rail,  as  the  man  requested,  making 
several  suggestions  as  the  work  progressed,  which  the 
emigrant  was  prompt  to  adopt,  and  which  led  him  to 
say  when  the  repairs  were  all  completed: 

"Now,  stranger,  may  be  you  would  be  willing  to  set 
up  and  take  a  bite  with  us.     Supper's  ready." 

Guy  was  not  only  willing,  but  eager.  The  sense  of 
security  he  had  felt  since  his  arrival  in  the  emigrant's 
camp,  aided  by  the  savory  odor  of  the  viands  that  were 
cooking  over  the  coals,  had  put  a  sharp  edge  on  his  ap- 
petite, and  he  did  full  justice  to  the  meal  that  was 
served  up.  While  he  was  eating  he  had  leisure  to  look 
about  him  and  to  examine  into  something  that  had  at- 
tracted his  notice  when  he  first  entered  the  camp. 
There  were  some  words  painted  in  large  letters  on  one 
of  the  wagon  covers,  and  after  a  little  study,  Guy 
made  them  out  to  be,  "Sonora  or  Bust." 

He  read  the  words  over  slowly  while  he  was  munch- 
ing his  corn  bread  and  bacon,  and  then  turned  his 
attention  to  the  emigrant's  family,  on  whom  he  had 
thus  far  bestowed  only  a  passing  glance. 

There  were  eight  of  them — two  women  and  six  chil- 
dren; and  as  both  the  women  were  addressed  as  mother, 
Guy  thought  there  ought  to  be  another  man  about  the 


218  GUY  HARRIS. 

camp;  but  as  he  did  not  put  in  an  appearance,  he  finally 
asked  after  him. 

"  Where  is  your  partner?"  said  he  to  the  emigrant. 

"  You  ask  that  question,  I  suppose,  because  you  see 
two  families  here,"  rejalied  the  man.  "  One  of  them  is 
mine,  and  the  other  was  my  brother's.  He  is  dead,  and 
so  I  have  his  wife  and  little  ones  to  care  for  till  I  get 
them  back  among  their  friends." 

Guy  helped  himself  to  another  piece  of  bacon  and 
looked  up  at  the  words  that  were  painted  on  the  wagon 
cover. 

"  Did  you  get  through,  or  bust?"  said  he. 

''  Both,"  rej)lied  the  emigrant.  ''  I  came  through  all 
right,  and  busted  afterward.  My  brother,  he  died,  the 
placer  diggings  give  out,  so  that  Calif orny  ain't  worth 
staying  in,  and  now  I  want  to  get  back  to  Missouri, 
where  I  came  from,  before  I  am  clean  broke.  These 
women  folks  can't  drive  horses — this  is  the  third  time 
they  have  run  into  stumps  and  rocks,  and  broke  that 
wagon  down,  between  here  and  Sonora — and  I'll  give 
any  man  ten  dollars  a  month  that's  a  mind  to  set  up 
there  and  drive  for  us." 
/'Are  you  going  straight  to  the  States?"  asked  Guy. 

"Just  as  straight  as  the  nearest  trail  runs." 

"  Then  I'm  your  man.     I'll  drive  one  wagon  for  you.'^ 

"  Talk  enough,"  said  the  emigrant.  "■  I  can  rest  easy 
now.  That  miserable  wagon  has  been  more  bother  to 
me  than  it  is  worth." 

And  so  the  matter  was  settled,  and  Guy  became  a 
teamster  and  a  member  of  the  emigrant's  family. 

For  the  next  three  months  he  led  a  dreary,  monoto- 
nous life,  during  which  not  a  single  incident  happened 
that  was  worth  recording.  He  arose  from  his  blankets 
at  daybreak,  ate  a  breakfast  of  corn  bread  and  bacon, 
and  then  climbed  to  his  seat  in  the  wagon,  where  he 
remained,  with  the  exceiDtion  of  an  hour's  halt  at  noon, 
until  long  after  dark.  Even  this  work  was  hard,  and 
the  longer  it  continued  the  more  disgusted  with  frontier 
life  Guy  became,  i.nd  the  firmer  grew  his  resolution, 


GUY  BECOMES  A   TEAMSTEk.  219 

that  if  he  evci"  lived  to  get  among  civilized  people  again, 
he  would  stay  among  them.  The  journey,  like  the 
voyage  around  the  Horn,  seemed  endless,  but  at  last,  to 
his  immense  relief,  Omaha  appeared  in  sight. 

By  this  time  Gruy  had  made  up  his  mind  what  he  was 
going  to  do.  From  the  emigrants  he  met  on  the  road 
he  learned  that  the  States  were  at  war,  that  one  portion 
of  the  Union  was  in  arms  against  the  other,  and  that 
men  were  wanted  on  both  sides. 

This  seemed  almost  a  godsend  to  Guy,  for  it  settled 
a  question  which  he  had  long  been  revolving  in  his 
mind,  namely:  What  should  he  do  for  a  living?  He 
would  go  into  the  Union  army.  He  would  save  every 
cent  of  the  money  he  earned  during  his  term  of  service, 
and  if  he  lived  to  come  out,  he  would  have  enough  to 
enable  him  to  take  a  course  at  some  commercial  college, 
and  thus  fit  himself  for  business.  He  was  a  boy  of 
peace — he  had  no  taste  for  fights  and  broils — but  he 
must  do  something  to  earn  a  livelihood,  and  this  seemed 
to  be  just  what  he  wanted. 

When  they  reached  Omaha  Gruy  was  paid  off  by  his 
employer,  receiving  thirty-five  dollars  in  money,  and 
after  taking  leave  of  him  and  his  family,  he  started  at 
once  for  the  levee.  Finding  there  a  steamer  bound  for 
St.  Louis,  he  shipped  on  it  as  deck  hand.  He  could  not 
afford  to  go  as  passenger,  for  his  clothes  were  almost  in 
tatters,  and  he  needed  the  little  money  he  had  to  pur- 
chase a  resjjectable  outfit  when  he  reached  St.  Louis. 

The  steamer  arrived  at  the  city  early  one  morning, 
and  Guy  having  received  his  wages,  bent  his  stejjs  to- 
ward the  nearest  clothing  store,  and  when  he  came  out 
again,  half  an  hour  afterward,  he  looked  more  like  Guy 
Harris  than  he  had  looked  for  many  a  long  day.  He 
had  purchased  a  neat,  durable  suit  of  clothing,  and  still 
had  a  few  dollars  left  in  his  pocket.  He  was  not 
ashamed  now  to  show  himself  on  the  principal  streets. 

The  first  thing  was  to  get  a  good  breakfast,  and  the 
next  to  hunt  up  an  officer  to  enlist  him.  There  was 
a  restaurant  close  by,  and  while  he  was  eating  a  dish 


220  GUY  HARRIS. 

of  liam  and  eggs,  and  drinking  a  cup  of  coffee,  he 
talked  with  the  proprietor,  who  directed  him  to  the 
nearest  recruiting  office.  It  was  on  Fourth  Street,  the 
man  said,  and  Guy  having  paid  his  hill  started  out  to 
find  it. 

Guy  felt  now  as  if  he  were  among  friends  from  whom 
he  had  long  been  separated.  He  was  delighted  to  find 
himself  among  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  city  again, 
and  not  a  single  incident  that  happened  as  he  jjassed 
along  the  street  did  he  regard  as  too  trifling  to  be 
noticed. 

He  had  now  been  adrift  in  the  world  nearly  fifteen 
months,  and  during  this  time  he  had  seldom  thought  of 
his  home  and  those  he  had  left  there.  It  is  true  that 
when  he  was  in  trouble  he  had  wished  himself  safe 
under  his  father's  roof  once  more,  just  as  a  storm-tossed 
mariner  wishes  himself  back  to  the  comfortable  haven 
he  left  a  few  days  ago;  but  if  he  had  ever  thought  of 
his  father  and  his  father's  wife,  it  was  with  a  feeling 
of  bitterness  which  seemed  to  grov/  stronger  and 
deeper  as  he  grew  older.  He  thought  of  them  now, 
but  without  a  single  pang  of  regret  or  a  single  long- 
ing in  his  heart  to  see  them.  The  world  had  treated 
him  harshly  since  he  had  been  out  in  it;  but  which  was 
the  worst,  he  asked  himself — to  receive  hard  words  and 
hard  usage  from  those  of  whom  he  had  a  riglit  to 
expect  nothing  better,  or  to  submit  to  daily  exhibitions 
of  indifference  and  partiality,  and  acts  of  petty  tyranny 
and  injustice  from  those  of  whom  he  had  a  right  to  ex- 
pect nothing  It  encouragement,  sympathy  and  love? 
Guy  asked  himself  tliis  question,  and  a  hard  expres- 
sion settled  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  which  did 
not  soften  when  he  suddenly  discovered  among  the 
numerous  pedestrians  one  whom  ho  thought  he  had 
seen  before.  It  Avas  a  tall,  dignified  gentleman,  who 
was  just  at  that  moment  crossing  the  street,  evidently 
with  the  intention  of  intercepting  him.  Guy  stared  at 
him  in  amazement.     It  was  liis  father! 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

FATHEK     AXD     SOIs". 

UY  COULD  scarcely  believe  his  eyes.  His 
father  was  the  last  man  on  earth  he  had  ex- 
pected to  see  in  St,  Louis — the  last  one  he 
wanted  to  meet,  if  the  truth  must  be  told — 
and  he  hoped  that  he  was  mistaken. 

But  the  approaching  gentleman  was  really  Mr.  Harris 
— there  could  be  no  doubt  about  that;  for,  as  far  as  his 
personal  appearance  was  concerned,  he  had  not  changed 
in  a  single  particular  since  Guy  last  saw  him.  His  face 
wore  the  same  iierce  frown,  before  which  the  boy  had 
so  often  trembled,  and  which  seemed  habitual  to  him, 
and  he  carried  himself  as  stiffly  as  ever.  But  he  came 
up  Avith  some  eagerness  in  his  manner,  and  for  once  ap- 
peai'ed  to  be  glad  to  see  his  son. 

"Guy I"  said  he,  seizing  the  boy's  outstretched  hand 
and  speaking  with  more  cordiality  than  he  had  ever  be- 
fore thrown  into  his  tones  when  addressing  him. 

"Father!"  replied  Guy. 

"  How  do  you  do?"  said  Mr.  Harris.  "  When  did  you 
arrive  here,  and  where  have  you  been?" 

Guy  noticed,  with  some  of  the  old  bitterness  in  his 
heart,  that  his  father  did  not  say  he  was  glad  to  meet 
him,  but  he  was  not  much  surj)rised  at  it.  He  could 
not  recollect  that  his  father  had  ever  exhibited  any  af- 
fection for  him.  He  saved  all  that  for  Ned,  and  Guy 
was  obliged  to  be  contented  with  the  few  crumbs  that 
fell  to  his  share  in  the  shape  of  Christmas  presents  and 
a  religious  book  once  or  twice  a  year. 

"■  I  have  just  now  come  from  the  plains,"  replied  Guy. 
"  I  have  been  to  sea  since  I  saw  you  last." 

"To  sea!"  repeated  Mr.  Harris — "as  a  common 
sailor?" 


223  GUY  HARRIS. 

' '  Yes,  sir.  I  have  made  two  voyages  as  a  foremast 
hand,  one  of  them  around  the  Horn.  I  came  from  San 
Francisco  overland." 

A  few  minutes'  silence  followed.  The  two  stood 
holding  fast  to  each  other's  hands,  and  each  was  busy 
with  his  own  thoughts,  Mr.  Harris  was  running  his 
eyes  over  Guy's  face  and  figure,  and  was  plainly  sur- 
prised, and  perhaps  a  little  disappointed,  to  see  him  so 
neatly  di-essed  and  looking  so  well. 

The  conventional  runaway  always  turns  up  ragged 
and  in  a  starving  condition;  but  this  one  looked  as 
though  he  had  been  living  on  the  fat  of  the  land.  Guy 
was  waiting  with  some  anxiety  to  hear  what  his  father 
would  have  to  say  next,  and  wondering  if  his  long  sei^a- 
ration  from  him  had  softened  his  heart  in  any  degree. 
At  last  Mr.  Harris  sjooke. 

"I  am  stopping  at  the  Planter's  House,"  said  he. 
"  Come  over  there  with  me.     I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

As  he  said  this  he  drew  his  son's  arm  through  his 
own  and  led  him  away.  This  movement  on  his  part 
was  a  great  surprise  to  Guy.  Never  before  had  his 
father  treated  him  with  so  much  familiarity. 

Perhaps  he  was  beginning  to  see  that  he  had  made  a 
woful  mistake  in  keeping  the  boy  at  such  a  distance 
from  him.  Had  his  eyes  been  opened  to  this  fact 
eighteen  months  sooner  Guy  would  never  have  been  a 
runaway. 

Arriving  at  the  Planter's  liouse  Mr.  Harris  led  the 
Avay  to  his  room,  and  as  he  locked  the  door  behind  him 
and  handed  Guy  a  chair,  the  latter  felt  very  much  as  he 
had  felt  in  former  days  when  his  father  had  ordered 
him  into  the  library  for  some  offense  ho  had  committed, 
and  followed  him  there  with  an  apple-tree  switch  in  his 
hand. 

"Are  you  on  your  way  home,  Guy?"  asked  Mr.  Harris 
as  he  seated  himself  in  a  chair  opposite  his  son. 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "1  came  to  St.  Louis  in- 
tending to  enlist  in  the  army." 

"  You  must  not  do  that,  Guy,"  said  his  father  ear- 


FA  THER  AND  SON.  223 

nestly.  '^  There  are  euougli  beside  you  to  risk  tlieir  lives 
ill  this  war.  I  want  you  to  go  back  Avith  me.  Home  is 
the  place  for  you/' 

"^iSTo,  father,  I  can't  do  it,"  said  Guy. 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  have  two  good  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  I  sup- 
pose that  all  my  acquaintances  know  by  this  time  that  I 
ran  away  from  home." 

"  I  suppose  they  do,"  said  his  father,  "^  and  that  is  all 
the  punishment  you  will  have  to  stand." 

'"Eor  the  ojoinions  of  the  majority  I  cai-e  nothing. 
Those  who  know  all  the  circumstances  will  not  judge 
me  too  harshly,"  said  Guy,  astonished  at  the  readiness 
with  which  he  expressed  himself.  But  then  his  heart 
was  full  of  this  matter.  He  had  thought  of  it  often 
and  words  came  easy  to  him. 

Mr.  Harris  elevated  his  eyebrows  and  looked  sur- 
prised. 

"Yes,  sir,"  continued  Guy,  who  easily  read  the 
thoughts  that  were  passing  in  his  father's  mind.  "  I 
mean  to  say  that  every  man  and  woman  in  Norwall  who 
is  intimate  with  our  family  will  tell  you  to-day,  if  they 
tell  you  anything,  that  I  had  good  reason  for  wishing  to 
leave  home.  I  never  saw  a  moment's  peace  there  in  my 
life." 

"  Then  why  did  you  not  come  to  me  like  a  man  and 
say  so,  instead  of  sneaking  away  like  a  thief  in  the 
night?"  asked  Mr.  Harris  with  all  the  old  sternness  in 
his  voice, 

"I  knew  better.  1  did  not  care  to  put  myself  in  the 
way  of  a  whipping,  and  that  is  all  the  satisfaction  I 
should  have  got." 

Whatever  may  have  been  Mr.  Harris'  other  faults,  he 
was  not  dishonest.  He  did  not  deny  this — he  could 
not,  so  he  hastened  to  change  the  subject. 

"■  What  was  the  reason  you  were  not  happy  at  home?" 
he  asked.     "  Ned  seems  to  enjoy  himself  very  well." 

"I  suppose  he  does,"  returned  Guy  bitterly.  "He 
has  a  father  and  mother  who  try  to  make  home  pleasant 


224  GUY  HARRIS. 

for  him.  Any  boy  can  enjoy  himself  under  such  cir- 
cumstances. " 

"Didn't  you  have  all  yon  wanted  to  eat,  and  drink, 
and  wear?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  is  that  all  a  boy  wants  to  make  him 
happy?  No,  indeed.  He  wants  a  kind  word  now  and 
then.  He  likes  to  be  told  once  in  a  while  chat  there  is 
some  good  in  him,  and  that  ho  is  not  altogether  wicked 
and  depraved. ,  He  wants  privileges  occasionally,  not 
those  granted  Avith  hesitation  and  grumljling  and  cau- 
tions innumerable,  for  he  cannot  enjoy  them,  but  those 
which  are  extended  willingly  and  smilingly,  as  if  the 
parent  found  as  much  pleasure  in  giving  as  the  boy  does 
in  receiving  them.  He  wants  somebody  who  will  love 
him,  and  who  is  not  ashamed  to  show  it.  Where  is 
Henry  Stewart?"  asked  Guy  suddenly. 

"He  is  still  at  home,"  replied  Mr.  Harris,  "  studying 
hard  to  fit  himself  for  college.  Mr.  Stewart  seems  to 
be  particularly  blessed  iii  his  children.  Henry  is  a 
model  boy.  He  never  does  anything  behind  his  father's 
back  that  he  would  be  ashamed  to  do  before  his  face." 

"And  what  is  the  reason?"  asked  Guy. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.     I  suppose  it  is  nature." 

"  Yes,  the  nature  of  the  boy  has  a  good  deal  to  do 
with  his  behavior,  of  course,  but  believe  me,  father, 
when  I  say  that  the  parents  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with 
it,  too,"  said  Guy  earnestly.  "If  you  vrill  go  into  Mr. 
Stewart's  yard  some  night  and  watch  his  family  through 
the  window,  as  I  did  on  one  occasion,  the  mystery  will 
be  solved  in  two  minutes'  time.  Henry  can't  help  being 
a  good  boy,  because  he  has  a  good  home.  It  isn't  what 
he  has  to  eat  and  drink  and  wear  that  makes  him  so, 
either." 

"  Well,  have  yon  been  so  much  happier  since  you  have 
been  out  in  the  world  than  you  were  at  home?'' 

"I  have  been  so  much  better  satisfied  that  I  don't 
Avant  to  go  back,"  replied  Guy. 

"  Have  you  never  regretted  your  rash  act?  Have  you 
never  wanted  to  see  us?" 


FA  THER  AND  SON.  225 

"  Yes,  sir,  to  both  yonr  questions.  I  "wished  myself 
at  home  a  good  many  times  during  the  first  three  months 
I  was  away,  not  because  I  was  sorry  I  had  left  it,  but  be- 
cause I  was  disheartened  by  the  misfortunes  I  met  with 
and  tlie  abuse  I  received  from  some  of  tliose  with  whom 
I  came  in  contact.  The  world  isn't  what  I  expected  to 
find  it  by  any  means.  I  have  been  cured  of  a  good  many 
foolish  notions  since  I  left  home." 

"  You  must  have  had  some  plan  in  your  head  when 
you  ran  away,"  said  Harris.  "  AVhat  did  you  expect  to 
do?" 

"  I  intended  to  become  a  hunter,"  said  Guy,  with  some 
hesitaj;ion. 

"  There  !  "  exclaimed  his  father,  suddenly  brightening. 
"I  have  at  last  reached  the  root  of  the  matter.  Don't 
you  see  now  that  my  judgment  was  better  than  yours  ? 
If  you  had  respected  my  wishes  and  let  those  miserable 
works  of  fiction  alone,  you  would  have  saved  yourself  a 
great  deal  of  trouble.  Be  honest  now.  Confess  that  the 
only  reason  why  you  left  home  was  because  you  got  some 
wild  idea  into  your  head  from  those  books." 

'^  I  have  already  told  you  why  I  left  home,  and  why  I 
don't  want  to  go  back,"  said  Guy.  "  If  works  of  fiction 
are  such  awful  things,  how  does  it  come  that  Henry 
Stewart  is  so  good  a  boy  ?  He  has  a  whole  library  of  such 
books,  and  he  doesn't  have  to  hide  away  in  the  carriage- 
house  or  attic  to  read  them  either,  as  I  did.  I  don't  deny 
that  the  stories  I  read  had  something  to  do  with  my 
choice  of  an  occupation,  but  I  do  deny  that  they  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  my  leaving  home.  The  home  itself  was 
the  cause  of  that.  It  was  such  a  gloomy,  dismal  place, 
that  I  couldn't  stay  there.  But  I've  had  enough  of  life 
on  the  frontier  and  on  the  ocean  wave.  It  is  all  well 
enough  to  sit  down  by  a  comfortable  fire  in  an  easy- 
chair,  and  read  about  the  imaginary  adventures  that  fall 
to  the  lot  of  hunters  and  sailors  who  never  existed,  but 
when  one  comes  to  follow  the  business,  he  finds  that  it  is 
a  different  matter  altogether." 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  here  in  St,  Louis  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Harris, 


226  GUY  HARRIS. 

'^  I  don't  know.  I  must  find  work  of  some  kind,  and 
that  very  soon,  for  I  have  but  a  few  dollars  left.  I  know 
nothing  of  business,  consequently  if  I  Avent  into  a  store 
I  should  have  to  accept  the  lowest  position,  which  would 
not  bring  me  enough  to  board  and  clothe  myself.  The 
only  way  I  can  see  is  to  enlist.  I  shall  save  every  cent 
of  my  money — I  think  I  know  the  value  of  it — and  when 
my  term  of  service  expires,  I  shall  have  enough  to 
enable  me  to  take  a  course  at  the  Commercial  College. 
Perhaps  after  that  I  can  find  some  paying  situation." 

''You  must  not  go  into  the  service,  Guy,"  said  Mr. 
Harris.  "  I  should  never  expect  to  see  you  again.  I 
can  give  you  something  to  do." 

Guy  opened  his  lips  to  decline  this  proposition  with- 
out waiting  to  hear  more  about  it.  The  thought  of 
working  under  his  father's  supervision  was  most  dis- 
tasteful to  him — indeed,  it  could  not  be  entertained  for  a 
moment.  He  could  not  bear  to  meet,  every  hour  in  the 
da}^,  that  stern,  gloomy  man,  who  never  smiled.  But 
Mr.  Harris  went  on  without  giving  him  time  to  speak. 

"I  have  prospered  since  the  war  begun,"  said  he. 
''I  have  had  two  profitable  government  contracts,  and 
have  established  a  business  house  in  this  city.  Mr. 
Walker,  who  is  now  my  partner,  has  charge  of  it.  I  will 
stej)  around  and  see  him  about  it,  and  perhaps  we  can 
make  some  satisfactory  arrangements,  if  you  v/ill  promise 
to  keep  out  of  the  service." 

''But,  father,"  said  Guy,  "do  you  live  here  \\\  this 
city?" 

"No;  I  have  charge  of  our  business  in  Norwall.  I  go 
back  there  by  this  evening's  train.  What  do  you  say?" 
'  "I  shall  be  grateful  for  any  Avork  that  will  bring  me 
my  board  and  clothes,  and  "will  promise  to  keep  out  of 
the  service,"  said  Guy. 

"  Suppose  you  come  around  here  and  take  dinner  with 
me  at  three  o'clock.  I  shall  then  be  able  to  tell  you  what 
arrangements  Mr.  Walker  and  myself  have  made." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  Guy. 

Mr.  Harris  arose  to  his  feet,  and  Gu}^  taking  this  as  a 


FA  THE  J?  AND  SON,  227 

hint  that  he  wished  the  interview  brouglit  to  a  close, 
picked  up  his  hat  and  left  the  room. 

"  Thank  goodness,  it  is  over  at  last/^'said  he,  drawing 
a  long  breath  of  relief.  "  I  didn't  say  half  I  meant  to 
have  said,  and  I  am  glad  I  didn't,  for  I  could  see  that  he 
felt  badly.  1  didn't  want  to  hurt  his  feelings,  but  at  the 
same  time  I  wanted  to  let  him  see  how  impossible  it  is 
for  me  to  go  back  to  Norwall  with  him.  I  shall  always 
remember  that  interview,  for  it  is  an  event  in  my  life. 
It  is  the  first  time  I  ever  spent  half  an  liour  in  private 
with  my  father  without  getting  a  scolding  or  a  whipping. 
He  was  distant  enough,  mercy  knows,  but  still  he  was 
kinder  and  more  cordial  than  I  ever  knew  him  to  be  be- 
fore. Why  didn't  he  exhibit  a  little  of  that  spirit  years 
ago?  I  would  have  done  anything  for  him  that  I  could 
do." 

"  I  never  in  my  life  heard  of  such  impudence,"  solilo- 
quized Mr.  Harris,  as  he  i)aced  up  and  down  his  room 
after  Guy's  departure.  "  It  Avas  all  I  could  do  to  keep 
my  hands  off  that  boy.  He  had  the  audacity  to  tell  me 
to  my  face  that  I  and  his  mother  are  the  cause  of  his 
wrong-doing — that  we  made  his  home  so  unpleasant  for 
him  that  he  couldn't  stay  there.  If  that  is  the  case  what 
is  the  reason  Ned  doesn't  run  away?  Guy  must  be  de- 
mented. That  bosh  he  used  to  read  so  much  has  turned 
his  head." 

How  very  unwilling  we  are  to  confess  ourselves  in 
fault  for  any  unhappiness  that  befall  us — it  is  so  much 
easier  to  lay  the  blame  upon  somebody  else.  Said  a 
father  in  my  hearing,  not  long  ago,  while  speaking  of  a 
reckless,  dissolute  son  who  had  caused  him  a  world  of 
trouble: 

"  Tom  always  Avas  a  peculiar  boy.  I  never  could  un- 
derstand him.  He  seemed  to  prefer  any  place  on  earth 
to  his  home,  and  he  never  would  stay  there  if  he  could 
go  anywhore  else.  Why  it  was  so  I  am  sure  I  don't 
know.  I  tried  my  best  to  do  my  duty  by  him,  and  it  is 
a  great  comfort  to  me  now  in  my  old  age  to  know  that 
nobody  can  tell  me  I  spoiled  him  by  sparing  the  rod.    I 


228  GUY  HARRIS. 

was  as  strict  witli  him  as  a  father  conld  be.  When  he 
was  not  at  school  I  shut  him  np  inside  the  yard  to  Jceep 
him  out  of  the  company  of  bad  boys.  I  never  allowed 
him  to  go  to  a  theater  or  circus,  but  made  him  read  his 
Bible  every  day  and  learn  a  portion  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment every  night  before  he  went  to  bed.  In  the  even- 
ing, as  soon  as  the  gas  was  lighted,  I  compelled  him  to 
bring  out  his  scliool-books  and  study  them  until  nine 
o'clock.  I  exercised  the  strictest  supervision  over  his 
reading,  and  burned  every  story  paper,  novel,  book  of 
travel,  and  trash  of  that  sort  that  he  brought  into  the 
house.  I  saw  that  he  was  regular  in  his  attendance  at 
church  and  Sunday-school,  and  on  Sunday  afternoons 
never  permitted  him  to  touch  any  books  or  papers  ex- 
cept those  of  a  religious  character.  In  short,  I  tried  to 
keep  his  mind  so  fully  occupied  with  good  and  useful 
things  that  wicked  and  trifling  ones  could  find  no  place 
in  it.  And  how  has  my  kindness  been  returned?"  added 
the  father  sorrowfully.  '■'  Tom  run  away  from  home 
when  the  war  broke  out,  and  has  never  been  near  me 
since.  He  is  now  among  those  rough  characters  on  the 
border,  and  if  everything  I  hear  is  true,  he  is  one  of  the 
worst  of  them.  How  a  bad  man  can  come  from  such  a 
home  as  Tom  had  in  his  boyhood,  is  a  mystery  to  me." 

But  it  was*no  mystery  to  me,  for  I  had  heard  the  other 
side  of  the  story.  A  few  weeks  previous  to  this,  Avhile 
on  my  way  to  visit  some  friends  in  the  East,  it  was  my 
fortune  to  meet  this  same  Tom  in  a  distant  State.  I 
could  scarcely  recognize  in  him  the  innocent,  meek- 
ap23earing  boy  I  had  known  in  years  gone  by.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  red  shirt,  thrown  open  at  the  throat,  coarse 
trousers  thrust  into  a  pair  of  high-top  boots,  and  a  tat- 
tered slouch  hat  which  he  wore  cocked  over  his  left  ear. 
In  a  belt  which  encircled  his  waist  he  carried  a  navy 
six-shooter  and  a  monstrous  bowie-knife,  both  oi  which 
had  been  used  with  terrible  effect  in  more  than  one  per- 
sonal encounter.  He  was  a  swaggering,  swearing,  boast- 
ful, dissipated  fellow,  and  always  seemed  on  the  lookout 
for  a  chance  to  pick  a  quarrel  Avith  some  one. 


FA  thEr  and  soM.  229 

''  You're  going  home,  Harry/"  said  lie,  as  lie  grasped 
my  hand  at  parting,  "and  I  wish  yon  joy  of  your  visit. 
Would  to  Heaven  I  had  a  home  to  go  to." 

"  You  have,  Tom,"  said  I,  "  and  your  father  would 
be  glad  to  see  you." 

"Don't  talk  to  me  in  that  way,"  he  said,  almost 
fiercely.  "  I  know  there  is  a  house  in  an  Eastern  town 
where  I  used  to  stay  when  I  was  a  boy,  because  I 
could  go  nowhere  else,  where  I  found  shelter,  food  and 
clothing,  and  was  daily  strapped  and  scolded,  but  does 
that  constitute  a  home?  If  it  does,  you  writers  and 
poets  are  all  liars.  You  tell  us  home  is  a  place  around 
Avhich  one's  warmest  affections  cluster — a  place  conse- 
crated by  a  mother's  presence,  by  her  prayers  and  holy 
tears,  whoso  sacred  influence  goes  with  us  through  life, 
and  whose  pleasant  memories  come  thronging  upon  us 
Avhen  the  tempter  is  near  to  keep  us  from  being  led 
astray.  Such  is  the  home  of  my  dreams,  but  it  is  one  I 
never  knew  and  never  shall  know.  I  never  knew  a 
mother's  love,  but  was  early  made  acquainted  with  the 
weight  of  a  father's  hand.  He  was  such  a  tyrant  that  I 
never  could  breathe  easy  in  his  presence.  He  denied  me 
every  boyish  privilege  and  indulgence,  and  brought  me 
up  so  strictly  that  I  learned  to  despise  everything  good 
simply  because  he  liked  it.  I  hated  the  Sabbath,  I 
hated  the  Bible,  being  held  to  so  unreasonably  strict  an 
observance  to  the  one,  and  so  often  compelled  against 
my  wishes  to  commit  to  memory  whole  pages  of  the 
other.  I  resolved,  as  far  back  as  I  can  remember,  that 
if  I  could  once  free  myself  from  home,  I'd  see  life  and 
make  up  for  lost  time,  and  you  know  as  well  as  I  can 
tell  you  how  I  have  kept  that  resolution.  I  am  sorry 
for  it  now,  but  it  is  too  late.  I  can't  live  my  life  over 
again.  I  have  come  to  such  a  pass  that  nobody  cares 
for  me." 

Tom's  under  lip  begun  to  quiver  and  his  eyes  to  fill 
with  tears.  Ashamed  of  the  weakness,  he  dashed  his 
hand  across  his  face,  uttered  an  oath  under  his  breath 
and  swaggered  off  to  the  nearest  saloon.     What  will  his 


230  (^UY  HARRIS. 

end  be?     The  rope  of  a  vigilance  cominittee,  or  the  bul- 
let of  some  fellow  desperado? 

Parents,  it  is  a  serious  matter  to  send  a  boy  into  the 
world  with  no  pleasant  recollections  of  yourselves  or  of 
home  to  restrain  him  in  the  hour  of  temptation. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE  COMMERCIAL    TRAVELER. 

ELL,  GUY,  whicli  way  shall  we  go  to-night? 
Do  you  feel  inclined  for  a  game  of  billiards 
before  supper?" 

The  speaker  adjusted  his  hat  in  front  of  a 
looking-glass,  drew  a  stray  lock  of  hair  over  one  of  his 
ears,  turned  his  head  from  side  to  side  to  assure  himself 
that  his  toilet  had  been  completed,  and  looked  over  his 
shoulder  toward  Guy  Harris,  who,  having  just  rendered 
to  the  book-keeper  an  account  of  the  cash  that  had 
passed  through  his  hands  during  the  day,  was  buttoning 
his  coat  preparatory  to  leaving  the  store.  The  question 
was  asked  in  a  low  tone  and  was  accompanied  by  a  side- 
long glance  toward  Mr.  Walker,  who  was  standing  at 
the  book-keeper's  desk. 

"1  don't  know,''  replied  Guy  hesitatingly.  "I've 
been  out  a  good  deal  of  late,  and  I  think  I  had  better 
begin  to  stop  at  home  once  in  a  while  of  an  evening." 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  exclaimed  the  first  speaker,  whom 
we  will  call  Jones,  and  who  was  one  of  the  drummers  or 
commercial  travelers  employed  to  sell  goods  for  the  firm 
of  Harris  &  Walker.  "  What  is  the  use  of  moping  in 
the  house  all  the  while?  When  one  has  been  hard  at 
work  all  day  he  wants  some  recreation  in  the  evening,  I 
take  it." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Guy,  "but  to  tell  the  truth, 
Jones,  I  don't  get  as  much  money  for  my  services  at 
you  do,  and  I  can't  stand  this  '  bumming  round '  as  you 
call  it." 

"  Funds  giving  out?     Then  run  your  face." 

"I  have  been  doing  just  that  very  thing.  I  am 
deeply  in  debt,  too." 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing  when  you  get  used  to  it.     Show 


232  GUY  HARRIS. 

me  a  clerk  in  this  city  wlio  is  not  in  debt^  and  I  will 
show  you  five  that  are." 

"But  my  creditors  want  me  to  pay  up;  at  least  I 
judge  so  from  the  way  they  are  beginning  to  look  at  me 
every  time  I  see  them." 

"  Well,  if  they  become  impatient,  just  say  to  them  that 
if  they  get  the  money  before  you  do,  you  would  be  pleased 
to  know  it.  Are  you  all  ready?  If  you  are,  come  on. 
1  have  only  this  evening  and  one  more  that  I  can  spend 
with  you,  for  I  must  start  ofE  on  my  travels  again  early 
on  Wednesday  morning. 

This  conversation  took  place  one  Monday  evening  in 
the  store  in  which  Guy  was  eznployed,  and  about  two 
months  subsequent  to  the  events  recorded  in  the  last 
chapter.  In  accordance  with  his  promise  Mr.  Harris 
consulted  with  his  new  partner,  Mr.  Walker,  and  the 
result  of  the  conference  was  that  Guy  was  employed  to 
do  the  outdoor  business  of  the  firm — to  act  as  city  col- 
lector and  shipping  clerk,  at  a  salary  of  four  hundred 
dollars  a  year.  His  working  hours  were  from  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  until  six  at  night,  with  an  hour's 
intermission  at  noon  for  dinner.  His  evenings  were  at 
his  own  disposal. 

This  last  was  an  arrangement  with  which  Mr.  Harris 
was  not  altogether  pleased.  He  knew  by  experience  the 
manifold  temptations  which  beset  those  who  live  in 
large  cities,  and  believed  there  was  something  in  the 
night  air  morally  injurious  to  young  peoj)le;  but  he 
thought  that  perhaps  Guy  had  learned  the  value  of  time 
and  money  during  his  wanderings,  and  hoped  that  his 
evenings  would  be  devoted,  as  he  said  he  intejided  to 
devote  them,  to  the  acquirement  of  the  rudiments  of  a 
business  education.  To  further  this  end  Mr.  Harris 
purchased  for  Guy  a  scholarship  at  the  Commercial  Col- 
lege, and  he  also  found  lodgings  for  him  at  a  small 
boarding-house  kept  by  a  widow  lady  in  a  retired  part 
of  the  city. 

For  a  month  no  fault  could  be  found  with  Guy.  He 
was  as  steadv  as  an  old  coach-horse.     He  had  learned  to 


The  COMMEkClAL  TRAVELEk.  %^% 

appreciate  the  privileges  and  comforts  of  civilized  life, 
and  knew  how  to  enjoy  them.  Having  been  made 
aware  of  his  deficiencies,  he  applied  himself  manfully  to 
the  task  of  overcoming  them.  He  was  always  on  hand 
during  business  hours,  and  performed  his  duty  faith- 
fully. Mr.  Walker  began  to  take  a  deep  interest  in 
him,  and  sent  encouraging  reports  to  Norwall  concern- 
ing him. 

"  Guy  is  a  splendid  fellow!"  so  Mr.  Walker,  who  was 
the  only  one  in  the  city  acquainted  with  his  clerk's  past 
history,  wrote  to  his  partner.  ''  He  is  very  industrious 
and  painstaking,  and  a  word  of  encouragement  or  ap- 
proval stimulates  him  to  extra  exertions.  You  know  I 
always  thought  he  was  a  good  boy.'" 

Guy's  landlady,  Mrs.  Willis,  also  took  a  wonderful 
interest  in  him;  he  looked  and  acted,  she  said,  so  much 
like  her  own  son,  who  had  gone  to  California  to  better 
his  fortune.  Guy  appreciated  every  little  kindness  she 
showed  him,  and  learned  to  love  her  as  devotedly  as  he 
had  once  loved  his  father's  Avife. 

But  Guy's  goodness  was  rather  of  the  negative  sort. 
He  did  nothing  very  wrong,  simply  because  he  was 
never  tempted.  Everything  was  going  smoothly  with 
him.  He  was  aiming  high  now,  had  formed  resolutions 
which  he  had  not  yet  had  time  to  forget;  his  whole 
mind  was  occupied  with  the  duties  of  his  new  vocation, 
and  it  is  easy  to  work  and  be  good  under  such  circum- 
stances. But  time  makes  changes,  and  soon  Guy  begun 
to  learn  that  even  a  shipping  clerk  has  troubles  and  per- 
plexities, which,  in  their  way,  are  just  as  vexatious  and 
hard  to  Ijear  as  those  that  fall  to  the  lot  of  other  people. 
The  routine  of  the  store,  the  performing  of  the  same 
duties  over  and  over  again,  became  tiresome  to  him;  it 
was  too  much  like  a  tread-mill.  When  night  came,  his 
mind  as  well  as  his  body  was  weary,  and  he  was  in  no 
condition  to  di])  into  the  mysteries  of  double-entry  book- 
keeping, or  wrestle  with  the  hard  problems  in  Bryant  & 
Stratton's  Mercantile  Arithmetic.  This  led  him  to  be- 
come irregular  in  his  attendance  at  the  college,  and  he 


234  GUY  HARRIS. 

begun  to  spend  his  leisure  hours  at  home.  Reading  and 
conversation  with  Mrs.  Willis  interested  him  for  a  few 
evenings,  but  became  a  bore  at  last,  and  Guv  fell  into 
the  habit  of  strolling  out  after  supper  for  a  breath  of 
fresh  air;  and  to  enable  him  to  enjoy  it  fully,  he  almost 
always  smoked  a  cigar. 

The  place  at  which  he  purchased  his  cigars  was  a  beer 
saloon,  and  after  a  few  visits  Guy  found  that  it  vvas  the 
headquarters  of  half  a  dozen  dashing  young  fellows, 
clerks  like  himself,  who  spent  all  their  evenings  there. 
They  would  come  in  after  supper,  singly  and  in  couples, 
take  a  glass  of  beer  or  cigar  at  the  bar,  and  then  pass 
out  of  sight  through  a  door  that  led  into  a  back  room. 

Acquaintances  are  easily  made  in  places  like  this — 
more  is  the  pity — and  Guy  very  soon  got  into  the  habit 
of  nodding  to  these  young  fellows  every  time  he  met 
them;  then  one  of  them  treated  him  to  a  cigar,  and 
asked  him  if  he  wouldn't  "  step  back  and  take  a  hand." 
Guy,  who  had  often  wondered  what  there  was  in  the 
back  room  that  brought  those  clerks  there  so  regularly, 
rejjlied  ih  the  affirmative,  and  following  them  through 
the  door  just  spoken  of,  found  that  it  led  into  an  apart- 
ment devoted  to  pigeon-hole,  dominoes  and  cards. 

The  acquaintances  Guy  formed  that  night  ripened 
rapidly  into  a  sort  of  friendship.  He  became  a  regular 
visitor  at  the  saloon,  and  although  he  was  a  remtrkably 
lucky  card  j^layer,  and  was  seldom  '^^v.i\\\"  for  a  game, 
the  money  he  had  carefully  saved  during  the  time  he 
had  been  employed  in  the  store — and  it  amounted  to  a 
respectable  sum — slipped  through  his  fingers  almost  be- 
fore he  knew  it,  and  at  last  he  had  not  a  single  dollar 
remaining.  '  One  night  he  surprised  his  new  friends  by 
seating  himself  near  the  card-table,  but  declined  to  take 
part  in  the  game. 

' '  What's  the  matter  ?"  they  all  asked  at  once. 

"  Why,  I  might  be  beaten,  and  if  I  do  I  have  no 
money  to  pay  the  bill.  I  forgot  my  pocket-book,"  said 
Guy,  ashamed  to  acknowledge  that  he  did  not  own  a 
cent  in  the  world. 


TH£  COMMERCIAL   TRAVELEk.  235 

"Is  that  all?"  cried  one  of  the  players,  '^  That's 
easily  enough  got  over.  Say,  Jake,"  he  added,  calling 
to  the  proprietor  of  the  saloon,  "  if  Harris  gets  stuck 
for  this  game,  you^'ll  chalk  it,  won't  you?"' 

"Oh,  sure,"  replied  the  Dutchman  readily.  "I 
drusts  him  all  de  peer  he  vants.^' 

The  boy  had  been  a  good  customer,  and  he  could 
afford  to  accommodate  him  to  a  limited  extent. 

This  was  a  new  chai^ter  in  Guy's  experience.  He  had 
never  thought  of  going  in  debt  before,  and  ere  many 
weeks  had  passed  away  he  had  reason  to  wish  that  no 
one  had  ever  thought  of  it  for  him. 

About  the  time  Guy  first  met  these  new  friends  he 
made  the  acquaintance  of  ]\Ir.  Jones,  the  commercial 
traveler,  who  was  presented  to  him  by  his  brother,  Will 
Jones,  the  junior  clerk.  These  two  young  gentlemen, 
Mr.  Jones  and  his  brother,  haci  private  reasons  for 
hating  Guy  most  cordially.  Will  had  been  an  applicant 
for  the  position  of  shipping  clerk,  and  indeed  Mr. 
Walker  had  partly  promised  it  to  him;  but  yielding  to 
the  wishes  of  his  partner,  he  gave  Guy  the  situation  in- 
stead, and  made  Jones  junior  clerk,  with  the  promise  of 
something  better  as  soon  as  there  was  an  opening. 

Will,  of  course,  was  highly  enraged.  Being  rather  a 
fast  young  man,  he  had  got  deeply  in  debt,  and  needed 
the  extra  hundred  and  fifty  dollars — in  his  subordinate 
position  he  received  but  two  hundred  and  fifty — to  sat- 
isfy his  creditors,  who  were  becoming  impatient.  His 
brother,  the  commercial  traveler,  was  absent  selling 
goods  for  the  firm,  and  not  knowing  what  else  to  do, 
Will  wrote  him  a  full  account  of  his  troubles,  and  ended 
by  begging  the  loan  of  a  few  dollars.  The  commercial 
traveler  replied  as  follows: 

"You  have  been  shamefully  treated.  That  place  was 
promised  to  you,  and  you  shall  have  it  if  I  die  for  it; 
but  I  can't  lend  you  any  money.  You  ought  to  have 
better  sense  than  to  ask  me,  for  I  have  often  told  you 
that  my  commission  does  not  begin  to  support  me.  If 
it  were  not  for  my  other  business,  I  should  be  in  a  hard 


236  GUV  HARRIS. 

row  of  stumps  directly.  Smoke  fewer  cigars  and  drink 
less  beer  till  I  come,  and  I'll  see  what  can  be  done.  In 
tlie  meantime  watch  Harris — watch  him  so  closely  that 
you  can  tell  me  every  one  of  his  habits.  If  I  can  get  a 
hold  on  him  I'll  have  him  out  of  that  store,  no  matter 
if  he  is  the  son  of  the  senior  partner. '^ 

In  accordance  with  these  instructions,  the  object  of 
which  Will  fully  comprehended,  he  set  himself  to  act  as 
a  spy  upon  the  shipjiing  clerk,  and  every  movement 
that  young  gentleman  made  during  business  hours  and 
afterward,  was  carefully  noted. 

At  first  Will  saw  nothing  encouraging  in  Guy's  behav- 
ior, for  his  habits  bore  the  strictest  investigation;  but 
from  the  time  he  got  into  the  way  of  going  to  Dutch 
Jake's  saloon  for  cigars  and  beer,  the  spy  collected 
abundant  evidence  against  him.  Wlien  the  commercial 
traveler  returned  he  listened  with  interest  to  the  story 
liis  brother  had  to  tell,  and  when  it  was  finished  said: 

"  Then  Harris  drinks  beer,  does  he?  That's  all  right. 
I  am  certain  of  success." 

"  But  you  mustn't  put  faith  in  that,"  said  Will.  "  He 
never  takes  too  much." 

''  No  matter,"  said  the  commercial  traveler,  "  he  takes 
a  little,  and  when  alcohol  is  in,  wit  is  out,  always.  I 
will  bet  you  a  suit  of  new  clothes  tliat  you  are  shipj^ing 
clerk  in  less  than  a  month — provided,  of  course,  that 
you  have  been  guarded  in  your  own  conduct,  and  given 
old  Walker  no  reason  to  distrust  you." 

At  the  very  first  opportunity  the  commercial  traveler 
was  introduced  to  Guy,  and  the  latter  was  highly  flattered 
to  see  that  he  had  made  a  very  favorable  impression  iipon 
the  gentlemanly  Mr.  Jones.  He  could  not  help  seeing 
it,  for  Mr.  Jones  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  his  admira- 
tion for  Guy.  He  accompanied  him  on  his  business 
tours  about  the  city,  dropped  in  to  see  him  every  night, 
and  never  appeared  to  be  easy  while  he  was  away  from 
him.  And  Guy  was  glad  to  be  in  his  company.  He  was 
proud  to  be  seen  on  the  streets  with  such  a  well-dressed, 
elegant  young  fellow. 


THE  COMMERCIAL   TRA  VELER.  237 

'' Harris/'' said  Mr.  Jones  one  clay,  "^Mr.  Walker  tells 
me  that  he  will  not  start  me  out  again  imder  two  or  three 
weeks,  and  I  must  have  a  home  somewhere.  If  you  and 
your  worthy  landlady  have  no  objections,  I  should  like 
to  board  and  room  with  you.  You  are  a  fellow  after  my 
own  heart,  and  I  like  your  society." 

^'1  have  no  objections,  certainly,"  said  Guy.  '^I 
should  be  delighted  with  the  arrangement.  Go  home 
and  take  supper  with  me  to-night,  and  I  will  propose  it 
to  Mrs.  Willis." 

Of  course  Mr.  Jones  jumped  at  the  invitation.  He 
made  a  favorable  iaijoression  upon  the  unsuspecting  land- 
lady, as  Guy  knew  he  would — he  did  not  see  how  any- 
body could  help  liking  Mr.  Jones — and  the  consequence 
was  that  he  paid  a  week's  lioard  in  advance,  and  was 
that  same  evening  duly  installed  in  Guy's  room. 

The  intimacy  thus  formed  begun  to  result  disastrously 
to  Guy  before  two  days  had  passed  away.  The  shipping 
clerk  in  his  simplicity  imagined  that  his  new  friend 
looked  up  to  him  as  a  superior  being,  Avhile  the  truth  was 
that  Mr.  Jones,  by  skillful  handling,  was  molding  him 
to  suit  his  own  purposes.  He  led  Guy  into  all  sorts  of 
extravagance.  In  the  first  place  he  made  such  a  display 
of  his  abundant  wardrobe  that  the  plain,  durable  cloth- 
ing with  which  the  shipping  clerk  had  provided  himself, 
and  which  he  believed  to  be  quite  good  enough  for  any 
young  man  in  his  circumstances,  begun  to  look,  in  the 
eyes  of  its  owner,  rather  shabby  when  compared  with  the 
elegant  broadcloth  suits  that  Mr.  Jones  wore  every  day. 
He  had  not  money  sufficient  to  buy  better,  but  Mr.  Jones 
had  both  cheek  and  credit,  and  through  him  Guy  was 
made  acquainted  M'ith  a  fashionable  tailor  on  Fourth 
Street,  who,  in  three  day's  time,  furnished  him  with  an 
outfit  that  made  his  eyes  dance  with  delight,  and  charged 
the  price  of  it  against  Guy  on  his  books.  Then,  of 
course,  other  things  had  to  be  purchased  to  correspond 
with  these  new  clothes,  for  coarse  pegged  boots,  cottc/i 
gloves,  and  a  felt  hat  would  not  look  well  with  a  suit  of 
German  broadcloth.     Guy  must  have  patent  leathers. 


238  GUY  HARRIS. 

fine  linen,  a  stove-pipe  hat,  and  imported  French  kids, 
all  of  which  were  procured  from  merchants  recommended 
by  Mr.  Jones,  and  each  of  whom  expressed  himself  will- 
ing to  wait,  not  only  tor  the  amount  of  that  bill,  but  for 
any  other  that  Guy  might  be  pleased  to  run  at  his  store. 

In  fine,  the  advent  of  Mr.  Jones  produced  a  wonderful 
change  in  Guy's  circumstances  and  feelings  in  two  short 
weeks.  The  commercial  traveler  had  a  large  circle  of 
acquaintances  in  the  city,  and  Guy  was  everywhere  in- 
troduced as  the  son  of  the  senior  member  of  the  well- 
known  and  Avealthy  firm  of  Harris  &Walker,  wholesale  dry 
goods  merchants,  and  from  being  an  obscure  clerk  whom 
nobody  noticed,  found  himself  riding  on  a  high  wave 
of  popularity.  Elegant  young  gentlemen  touched  their 
hats  to  him  in  the  streets,  and  now  and  then  invited  him 
to  take  a  cigar  or  a  glass  of  wine  with  them;  perfumed 
and  obsequious  bar-tenders  in  gorgeous  saloons  leaned 
respectfully  over  the  counter  while  he  gave  his  orders, 
and  executed  them  with  alacrity;  the  clerks  in  a  certain 
"billiard  parlor"  took  particular  pains  to  keep  his 
private  cue  locked  up  so  that  nobody  else  could  get  at  it, 
and  to  see  that  his  favorite  four-pocket  table  Avas  unoc- 
cupied when  he  dropped  in  at  six  o'clock  to  phiy  his 
regular  game;  and  livery-stable  keepers  trotted  out  their 
best  stock,  and  furnished  him  with  their  finest  carriages 
when  he  wished  to  go  out  riding  of  a  Sunday  afternoon. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  whole  course  of  his  existence 
Guy  was  "seeing  life,"  and  that,  too,  without  a  cent  in 
his  pocket.  He  was  bewildered,  intoxicated  with  pleas- 
ure, and  there  was  but  one  thing  to  throw  a  cloud  over 
his  enjoyments.  That  was  the  way  his  landlady  looked 
at  him  when  he  came  down  to  breakfast  in  the  morning 
with  trembling  hands,  and  red  and  swollen  eyes,  and  de- 
clined to  take  anything  more  than  a  cup  of  cofi'ee.  On 
such  occasions  there  was  an  expression  on  the  good  lady's 
face  that  cut  Guy  to  tlie  heart,  and  somehow  always  led 
to  the  mortifying  reflection  that  for  the  last  six  weeks  he 
had  not  paid  her  a  cent  for  his  board.  Then  he  would 
seem  for  the  moment  to  come  to  his  senses;   but  the 


THE  COMMERCIAL   TRAVELER,  239 

observant  Mr.  Jones  was  always  ready  to  step  in  and  nip 
in  the  bud  any  resolutions  of  amendment  he  might  make. 
As  they  walked  toward  the  store  he  wonld  draw  a  glow- 
ing contrast  between  Guy's  present  circumstances  and  his 
former  old-fogy  manner  of  living,  and  wind  up  by  hum- 
ming over  a  verse  of  doggerel  something  like  the  follow- 
ing: 

"As  we  journey  through  life,  let  us  b've  by  the  way, 

And  our  pilgrimag-e  g-ladden  with  feasting-,  not  fasting; 
Let  us  banish  dull  care,  and  keep  sorrow  at  bay, 
Tor  our  days  are  all  numbered,  and  life  is  not  lasting," 

His  plans  were  not  yet   fully   matured,  and   conse- 
quently he  was  not  ready  for  Guy's  awakening. 


CHAPTEE   XXVI. 

GUY    RECEIVES   A    PROPOSITIOJST. 

HE  shipping  clerk  and  commercial  traveler 
walked  out  of  the  store  arm-in-arm,  and  bent 
their  steps  toward  a  billiard  saloon.  Mr. 
Jones  talked  incessantly.  The  sober  face 
Guy  wore,  and  the  words  he  had  let  fall  a  while  ago, 
were  small  things  in  themselves,  but  much  too  import- 
ant to  be  disregarded,  for  they  were  signs  of  the  awaken- 
ing which  was  sure  to  come,  but  which  Mr.  Jones,  for 
reasons  of  his  own,  wished  to  postpone  for  a  day  or  two 
longer.  So  he  tried  to  keep  up  Guy's  spirits,  and  be- 
lieving that  a  little  assistance  might  not  come  amiss,  lad 
him  into  Dutch  Jake's  saloon,  where  they  had  a  glass 
of  beer  and  a  cigar  apiece,  Jones  paying  for  one  and 
Guy  treating  to  the  other. 

"  Chalk  it,  Jake,"  said  Guy,  as  he  walked  around  the 
end  of  the  counter  for  a  match  to  light  his  cigar. 

''Veil,"  said  the  Dutchman  with  some  hesitation, 
"  I  shalks  dis,  but  I  don't  likes  dis  shalking  pisness 
pooty  veil,  nolaow.  You  peen  shpending  monish  like 
plazes,  Meester  Harris — you  knoAv  it?  Your  pill  joeen 
running  dwo  months.'^ 

Guy  reddened  to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  This  was  a 
gentle  hint  that  Jake  wanted  him  to  pay  up,  and  he 
had  never  been  dunned  before. 

''  How  much  do  I  owe  you?"  he  asked, 

"Eight  tollars  und  vorty  zents;  you  know  it  now," 

"  Eight  dollars  and — Great  Scott!  how  can  that  be?" 
exclaimed  Guy,  almost  overwhelmed  with  astonishment, 
*'  I  haven't  been  stuck  for  a  game  of  cards  for  the  last 
two  weeks." 

''Veil,  it's  all  fair,  every  zent!"  almost  shouted  the 
Dutchman,  bringing  his  fist  down  on  the  counter  with 


GUY  RECEIVES  A  PROPOSITION.  241 

a  sounding  whack.  "  You  dinks  I  sheats  you,  2?v  dun- 
der?" 

"  Oh,  now,  Jake,  you  needn't  get  on  the  rampage," 
said  Jones,  interposing  to  cahn  the  rising  storm.  ''  Guy 
is  not  disjDuting  your  bill — he  is  a  gentleman.  He  will 
pay  every  cent  of  it  in  a  few  days." 

"Veil,  dot's  all  right,  put  it's  petter  he  bays  it  j^ooty 
gwick.  Ven  a  man  gomes  here  mit  vine  glose  und  a 
vine  vatch  und  shain,  und  runs  me  a  pill  here  in  mine 
house  von  ei£"ht  tollars  und  vorty  zents,  I  don't  likes 
dis  pisness." 

While  the  Dutchman  was  talking  himself  hoarse  Guy 
and  his  companion  beat  a  hasty  retreat.  Jones  seemed 
to  look  upon  the  matter  in  the  light  of  an  excellent 
joke,  and  laughed  heartily  over  it,  but  Guy  said  noth- 
ing. He  was  in  a  very  serious  frame  of  mind.  He  did 
not  in  the  least  enjoy  the  game  of  billiards  that  fol- 
lowed, for  his  thoughts  were  full  of  the  unpleasant  in- 
cident that  had  just  happened.  He  was  learning  now 
what  all  people  who  go  in  debt  must  learn  sooner  or 
later — that  a  bill,  like  the  snow-ball  a  boy  rolls  up  to 
build  his  mimic  fort,  accumulates  rapidly.  He  was 
glad  when  the  game  was  finished.  He  and  Jones  took 
a  cigar  at  the  counter,  and  were  about  to  move  away 
when  the  bar-tender  beckoned  to  Guy. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  think  hard  of  me,  Harris," 
said  he,  leading  Guy  out  of  earshot  of  his  companion, 
"but  I  just  thought  that  I  would  suggest  to  you  that 
perhaps  your  bill  here  is  rather  larger  than  you  think. 
It  has  been  running  five  weekb,  and  we  like  to  have 
our  customers  settle  up  at  least  once  a  month." 

"  How  much  is  it?"  asked  Guy  with  as  much  indiffer- 
ence as  he  could  throw  into  his  tones. 

"Only  twenty-four  doUars.  Don't  misunderstand 
me  now.  I  am  not  dunning  you,  for  I  know  that  you 
are  a  thoroughbred,  and  that  you  are  able  to  pay  it  at 
any  moment.  I  merely  wish  to  call  your  attention  to 
it." 

"  I  am  glad  you  did,"  said  Guy.  "  I'll  see  to  it. 
Good-evening." 


242  GUY  HA R I? IS. 

Had  Guy  suddenly  been  knocked  over  by  some  invisi- 
ble hand  he  could  not  have  been  more  amazed.  Thirty- 
two  dollars  in  debt,  and  several  creditors  yet  to  hear 
from!  Had  he  been  asked  an  hour  before  to  name  the 
sum  he  owed  these  two  men,  he  would  have  said  not 
more  than  five  dollars.  He  had  kept  no  account  of  the 
bills  he  had  run  at  other  places,  and  if  they  exceeded 
his  estimate  of  them  in  the  same  proportion  that  these 
two  did,  what  would  become  of  him?  Where  could  he 
raise  the  money  to  pay  them?  He  could  not  bear  to 
think  about  it.  He  overtook  his  companion  at  the 
door,  and  the  latter  saw  very  plainly  that  the  awakening 
had  come. 

*'  Well,  perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  it  should  come  now 
as  at  a  later  day,^'  soliloquized  the  commercial  traveler. 
"I've  got  him  just  where  I  want  him,  and  I'll  make 
him  a  proposition  to-night.  I  have  another  whole  day 
to  operate  in  before  I  start  out  on  my  travels,  and  a 
great  deal  can  be  accomplished  in  that  time.  How  much 
is  it,  Guy?  Twenty-four  dollars!  That  is  less  than  I 
thought  it  would  be.  Billiards  at  twenty-five  cents  a 
game,  and  fancy  drinks  at  fifteen  cents  each  count  up, 
you  know.     When  are  you  going  to  pay  it?'' 

''I  don't  know.  I  can't  pay  Jake's  bill,  much  less 
this  one." 

"'AVell,  now,  I  say!  Look  here,  my  dear  fellow,  this 
won't  do,  you  know!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jones,  suddenly 
stopping  in  the  street  and  turning  a  most  astonished 
face  toward  Guy.  "  liemember,  if  you  please,  that  these 
people  to  whom  I  have  introduced  you  are  my  personal 
friends,  and  that  I  brought  you  to  their  notice  supjDos- 
ing  you  to  be  a  gentleman.  You  must  pay  these  bills. 
My  honor  is  at  stake  as  well  as  your  own,  because  I 
introduced  you.  If  you  don't  do  it,  3-our  creditors  will 
call  upon  Mr.  W^ilker." 

"  Great  Scott!"  ejaculated  Guy,  who  had  never  thought 
of  this  before. 

"  Certainly  they  will,"  continued  Mr.  Joues.  "And 
just   consider   how  I  should  feel   under   such   circum- 


GUY  RECEIVES  A  PROPOSITION.  243 

Stances!     I  should  never  dare  to  look  a  white  man  in 
the  face  again.     I  didn't  think  you  were  dishonest." 

"And  I  am  not,  either/'  returned  Guy  with  spirit. 
"  I  should  be  glad  to  settle  these  bills,  but  how  can  I  do 
it  without  money?" 

"Oh,  that's  the  trouble,  is  it?  It  isn't  want  of  in- 
clination, but  a  lack  of  means.     Is  that  it?" 

"  That's  just  the  way  the  matter  stands,"  answered 
Guy. 

"  Then  I  ask  your  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  grasping 
Guy's  hand  and  shaking  it  cordially.  "I  misunder- 
stood you.  Bvit  are  you  really  out  of  money?"  he 
added,  with  a  look  of  surprise,  although  he  knew  very 
well  that  Guy  was  penniless,  and  had  been  for  weeks. 

"  I  haven't  a  red,"  was  the  despairing  reply. 

"Don't  let  it  trouble  you.     I  can  remedy  that." 

"  You  can!"  exclaimed  Guy,  astonished  and  delighted. 

^^Of  course.  I  earn  three  or  four  thousand  every 
year,  outside  of  my  commission,  and  in  an  hour  I  can 
explain  the  mode  of  operating,  so  that  you  can  do  the 
same." 

"  And  will  you?"  asked  Guy. 

"I  will,  I  assure  you.  Harris,  when  I  am  a  friend  to 
a  man  I  am  a  friend  all  over.  And  what  is  the  use  of 
my  professing  to  think  so  much  of  you  if  I  am  not  will- 
ing to  prove  it?" 

"  You  are  a  friend,  indeed,"  returned  Guy  with  en- 
thusiasm, "  and  if  you  will  help  me  out  of  this  scrape  I 
will  never  go  in  debt  again  as  long  as  I  live." 

"Oh,  as  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Jones  indifferently,  "it 
doesn't  signify.  The  best  of  us  get  short  sometimes, 
and  then  it  is  very  convenient  to  have  a  friend  or  two 
who  is  willing  to  credit  us.  All  one  has  to  do  is  to  get 
up  a  reputation  for  honesty,  and  then  he  can  run  his 
face  as  long  as  he  chooses." 

"  What  is  this  plan  you  were  speaking  of?"  asked  Guy. 

"  I  will  tell  you  this  evening.  After  supper  we  will 
go  up  to  our  room,  and  while  we  are  smoking  a  cigar 
we'll  have  a  long,  friendly  talk. " 


244  GUY  HARRIS. 

''  Guy  did  not  want  any  supper.  He  could  think  of 
nothing  but  his  debts  and  his  companion's  friendly  offer 
to  help  him  out  of  them,  and  he  was  impatient  to  learn 
how  his  relief  was  to  be  accomplished.  He  urged  Jones 
to  reveal  the  secret  at  once,  but  the  latter  could  not  be 
prevailed  upon  to  say  more  on  the  subject  just  then,  and 
Guy  was  obliged  to  await  his  pleasure. 

Supper  over,  the  cigars  lighted,  and  the  door  of  their 
room  closed  to  keep  the  smoke  from  going  out  into  the 
hall  where  the  landlady  would  be  sure  to  detect  it,  Guy 
and  the  commercial  traveler  seated  themselves,  one  in 
the  easy  chair  and  the  other  on  the  bed,  and  proceeded 
to  discuss  matters. 

''In  the  first  place,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  "in  order  that 
I  may  know  just  what  to  do,  you  must  tell  me  how 
much  you  owe,  and  give  me  the  names  of  those  to  whom 
you  are  indebted — that  is,  if  you  are  perfectly  willing  to 
do  so."  . 

"Of  course  I  am,"  returned  Guy  readily.  "  I  will 
meet  your  friendly  advances  half-way.  To  begin  with, 
there  are  my  bills  at  Dutch  Jake's  and  the  billiard  sa- 
loon, amounting  to  thirty-two  dollars  and  forty  cents. 
Then  I  am  indebted  thirty  dollars  to  Mrs.  Willis,  and  if 
I  may  judge  by  the  way  she  looks  at  me  now  and  then, 
she  would  be  wonderfully  23leased  if  I  would  pay  ujx" 

"  Oh,  she  doesn't  need  the  money,"  said  Jones.  "  She 
has  a  little  fortune  of  her  own,  and  only  keeps  boarders 
for  company.  If  she  says  anything  to  you,  there  are 
i:)lenty  of  ways  to  put  her  off.  Tell  her  that  you  will 
settle  up  as  soon  as  you  draw  your  next  quarter's 
salary." 

"That  woitld  be  a  good  joke  on  her,  wouldn't  it?" 
said  Guy  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  To  tell  the  truth,"  he 
added,  with  some  hesitation,  "I — that  is — you  know 
Mr.  Walker  allows  me  to  be  my  own  paymaster,  and  I 
have  already  drawn  and  spent  my  last  quarter's  salary. 
I  shall  not  get  a  cent  of  money  from  the  firm  for  five 
weeks." 

"I  am  overjoyed  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Jones  to  him- 


GUY  RECEIVES  A  PROPOSITION.  245 

self.  "  Tilings  are  working  better  than  I  thought.  I've 
got  you  in  a  tight  corner,  my  lad,  and  all  that  is  re- 
quired is  a  little  careful  handling  to  get  you  in  the  way 
of  embezzling."  Then  aloud  he  said:  "  That  is  a  very 
bad  state  of  affairs,  Gruy,  These  people  must  be  paid  at 
once." 

"I  know  they  ought  to  be  jiaid,  and  you  said  you 
would  put  me  in  the  way  of  doing  it." 

"  So  I  will.  I'll  come  to  that  directly.  But  who  else 
do  you  owe?" 

Guy  went  on  with  the  list  of  those  to  whom  he  was  in- 
debted, checking  each  one  off  on  the  fingers  of  his  left 
hand  as  he  j)ronounced  his  name.  Jones  listened  in 
genuine  amazement,  for  Guy  had  been  carrying  things 
with  a  much  higher  hand  than  he  had  supposed.  His 
debts,  according  to  his  own  showing,  footed  up  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars,  and  if  the  amounts 
charged  against  him  on  the  books  of  his  creditors  ex- 
ceeded his  exjjectations  as  greatly  as  Jones  hoped  they 
would,  he  owed  at  least  two  hundred  dollars.  The  com- 
mercial traveler  took  down  the  names  and  amounts  as 
Guy  called  them  off — a  i^roceeding  that  Guy  could  not 
see  the  necessity  of. 

"You  mustn't  show  that  to  anybody,"  said  he. 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Jones  with  an  injured  air. 
"I  wish  to  ascertain  just  how  much  you  owe,  so  that  I 
may  know  how  large  a  sum  of  money  it  will  take  to  put 
you  on  your  feet  again.  One  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars,"  he  continued,  after  he  had  added  up  the  col- 
umn of  figures.  "That  is  a  bad  showing,  Guy — a  very 
bad  shoAving  indeed.  It  is  a  large  sum  to  one  whose 
salary  amounts  to  only  four  hundred  dollars  a  year,  but 
it  must  be  paid.  Are  you  ready  to  listen  to  my  plans 
now?" 

"  I  am,"  said  Guy.     "  I  am  all  ears." 

"I do  not  suppose  that  you  will  like  them  at  first," 
said  Mr.  Jones,  "but  if  you  will  take  my  advice  you 
will  consider  well  before  you  reject  them.  I  can  only 
say  that  I  am  about  to  describe  to  you  a  business  to 


M6  GUY  HARRIS. 

which,  as  I  happen  to  know,  a  great  many  people  re- 
sort to  enable  them  to  eke  out  a  resjDcctable  livelihood." 

With  this,  Mr.  Jones  took  a  long  pull  at  his  cigar  by 
way  of  inspiration,  settled  back  on  his  elbow  on  the  bed, 
and  proceeded  with  a  minute  and  careful  explanation  of 
the  business  to  which  he  had  referred.  He  had  not  said 
many  words  before  Guy's  eyes  begun  to  open  with  sur- 
prise, and  the  longer  he  listened  the  more  amazed  he 
became.  When  Mr.  Jones  drew  from  his  pocket  the 
implements  of  his  trade  and  exhibited  them  to  Guy,  the 
latter  jumped  from  his  chair  in  high  indignation. 

"  I'll  never  do  it!"  said  he  with  emphasis.  "  I  haven't 
amounted  to  much  during  the  time  I  have  knocked  about 
the  world,  but  I  have  never  yet  been  mean  enough  to 
play  confidence  man." 

"  This  is  the  way  you  repay  the  interest  I  take  in  you, 
is  it?"  demanded  Mr.  Jones  angrily.  "I  offer  you  a 
friend's  advice  and  services,  and  you  abuse  me  for  it." 

''You  are  no  friend  when  you  try  to  get  me  into 
danger,"  said  Guy. 

"  There's  no  need  of  getting  excited  over  it,"  said  Mr. 
Jones,  as  the  shipping  clerk  begun  pacing  nervously  up 
and  down  the  room.  "  I  am  not  trying  to  get  you  into 
danger.  I  have  followed  this  business  for  years,  and 
know  that  there  is  no  trouble  in  carrying  it  out  success- 
fully; but  mark  you — there  will  be  trouble  if  you  don't 
pay  your  debts,  and  serious  trouble,  too.  What  will  Mr. 
Walker  say?  He  thinks  everything  of  you  now — says 
you're  one  of  the  finest  young  fellows  in  St.  Louis." 

"Does  he  say  that?"  asked  Guy,  Who  could  not  re- 
member that  any  one  had  ever  spoken  a  word  in  his 
praise  before. 

"  Yes,  he  does;  and  if  I  were  you  I  Avould  work  hard 
to  retain  his  good  opinion." 

"  I  don't  see  tliat  I  can  retain  it  by  becoming  a 
swindler,"  said  Guy. 

"  He  will  never  know  it;  but  he  will  know  there's 
something  Avrong  when  your  creditors  carry  their  bills 
to  him,  as  they  certainly  will,  if  you  don't  settle  up 
soon/^ 


GUY  RECEIVES  A  PROPOSITION.  247 

"Great  Csesar!"  gasped  Guy,  who  trembled  at  the 
bare  mention  of  the  merchant's  name  in  connection  with 
his  debts.  "  Is  there  no  other  way  out?  Can't  you  lend 
me  some  money?" 

"  Not  a  red,  my  dear  fellow.  I  manage  to  spend  all  I 
make  as  soon  as  it  gets  into  my  hands.  There  is 
no  other  way  out  that  I  can  think  of  now.  As  I  told 
you  before,  I  did  not  expect  that  you  would  like  the  busi- 
ness at  first — I  know  I  objected  when  it  was  proposed  to 
me — but  you  will  find  that  it  will  grow  less  distasteful 
the  longer  you  think  about  it.  It  is  a  sure  road  to  ease 
and  fortune,  and  you  had  better  take  time  to  consider 
before  you  refuse  to  try  it.  But  you  are  getting  down- 
hearted, Guy.  Let's  go  out  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  It 
will  liven  you  up  a  bit." 

'^JSTo,  I  don't  care  to  go  out,"  said  Guy.  "  I  am  in 
no  mood  to  enjoy  anything." 

"  Then  you  will  excuse  me,  won't  you?  I  have  an  en- 
gagement at  this  hour.  I  will  be  back  at  eleven,  and  in 
the  meantime  you  had  better  smoke  another  cigar,  and 
think  the  matter  over." 

"  There's  no  need  that  I  should  think  it  over.  I'll 
never  consent  to  it — never.  My  creditors  will  not  drive 
me  to  such  extremities." 

'^' Oh,  they  won't,  eh?"  said  Mr.  Jones  to  himself  as  he 
closed  the  door  and  paused  a  moment  on  the  landing 
outside.  "We'll  see  about  that,  my  fine  lad.  I'll  have 
them  following  you  like  so  many  sleuth-hounds  before 
twenty-four  hours  have  passed  over  your  head.  You'll 
find  that  they  won't  care  what  becomes  of  you  so  long  as 
they  get  their  money.  There  is  another  way  out  of  the 
difficulty,  but  I  don't  think  it  quite  safe  to  propose  it  to 
Guy  to-night.  I  will  tell  him  of  it  to-morrow.  By  that 
time  he  will  be  cornered  so  tightly  that  he  will  be  glad 
to  do  anything  to  get  out." 

So  saying  the  commercial  traveler  laughed  softly  to 
himself,  and  slowly  descended  the  stairs. 


CHAPTEE  XXVII. 

WHAT   HAPPENED    AT   THE    STORE. 


K  THE  hall  Mr.  Jones  met  his  landlady. 
The  sight  of  her  seemed  to  recall  something 
to  his  mind,  for  he  quickly  thrust  his  hand 
into  his  pocket,  and  said  as  he  approached: 

"^I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  Mrs.  Willis,  but  I  never 
thought  of  it  before,  I  assure  you." 

''Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Jones?"  asked  the 
lady  in  surprise. 

"I  mean  that,  contrary  to  my  usual  custom,  I  have 
neglected  to  pay  my  week's  board." 

"  Pray  don't  mention  it,"  said  Mrs.  Willis,  accepting 
the  bill  her  lodger  tendered  her.  "  If  I  had  needed  the 
money  I  should  not  have  hesitated  to  ask  for  it.  But, 
Mr.  Jones,  I  am  really  afraid  that  I  shall  have  to  si)eak 
to  your  friend,  Guy." 

The  commercial  traveler  spread  out  his  feet,  placed  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  and  gazed  fixedly  at  the  oil-cloth 
on  the  floor,  but  had  nothing  to  say. 

"  It  isn't  the  money  I  care  for,"  said  the  landlady, 
''  but  I  can  see  very  plainly  that  Gfuy  is  getting  into  bad 
habits.  He  is  going  to  ruin  as  fast  as  he  can,  and  I 
think  it  is  your  duty  to  advise  him  to  do  better." 

"I  do,  Mrs.  Willis;  indeed  1  do,  ver}^  frequently,"  re- 
plied Jones,  in  a  sorrowful  voice;  "  but  I  find  that  it  is 
of  no  use.  I  have  no  more  influence  with  him  than  I 
have  with  the  wind.  I  am  surprised  to  hear  that  he 
owes  you,"  he  added,  with  some  indignation  in  his 
tones,  ''but  I  know  the  reason  for  it.  It  isn't  because 
Guy  isn't  able,  or  doesn't  want  to  pay,  but  simply  be- 
cause he  is  so  careless.  If  you  will  take  my  advice  you 
can  get  your  money  to-morrow." 

"What  must  I  do?" 


tVHA  r  HAPPEKfED  A  T  THE  STORE.  249 

''  Do  as  the  rest  of  liis  creditors  do — call  upon  liim  at 
the  store.  Suppose  you  come  about  six  o'clock  in  the 
evening?     You  will  be  sure  to  find  him  in  then." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  do  that,"  said  Mrs.  Willis  quickly.  "  I 
don't  want  to  dun  Mr.  Harris." 

"  Of  course  not;  you  merely  wish  to  remind  him  that 
he  is  in  your  debt,  that's  all." 

''Why  couldn't  I  speak  to  him  here  and  now?" 

''You  could,  certainly,  but  it  would  do  no  good.  He 
would  promise  laithfully  to  pay  up  at  once,  and  never 
think  of  the  matter  again.  He  is  just  so  forgetful.  I 
really  wish  you  could  make  it  convenient  to  call  on  him 
to-morrow  evening  at  six  o'clock,"  added  Mr.  Jones, 
"  for  by  so  doing  you  will  benefit  G-uy  as  w^eil  as  yourself. 
He  will  draw  his  quarter's  salary  then,  and  if  you  can 
get  your  money  out  of  him  it  will  keep  him  from  spend- 
ing it  for  beer  and  billiards — a  practice  to  which  he  has 
of  late,  1  am  sorry  to  say,  become  very  much  addicted." 

The  argument  was  a  clincher,  and  put  all  the  good 
lady's  scruples  to  rout.  She  did  not  need  the  money, 
and  neither  did  she  want  to  dun  Guy;  but  if  by  that 
means  she  could  keep  him  from  spending  his  hard  earn- 
ings foolishly,  it  was  her  duty  to  do  it.  So  she  prom- 
ished  to  follow  Mr.  Jones'  advice,  and  the  latter,  after 
begging  her  not  to  say  a  word  to  Guy  concerning  what 
had  just  passed  between  them,  leisurely  pulled  on  his 
gloves  and  left  the  house. 

"  There's  one  hound  I  have  put  on  your  track,  Mr. 
Harris,"  muttered  the  commercial  traveler  when  he  had 
gained  the  street.  "  If  I  could  only  raise  a  susj^icion 
in  her  mind  that  her  money  is  in  danger,  wouldn't  she 
make  things  lively  though?  For  good,  fine,  ornamental 
dunning,  commend  me  to  a  mad  landlady,  who  can  do 
more  of  it  in  five  minutes  than  any  ten  men  can  do  in 
half  an  hour.  I  know,  for  I  have  had  experience  with 
them." 

With  this  reflection  Mr.  Jones  pulled  his  coat  collar 
up  around  his  ears,  for  the  evening  air  was  chilly,  and 
hurrying  down  Fourth  Street  turned  into  the  door  of  a 


^50  GUY  HARRIS. 

fashionable  tailoring  establishment.     Meeting  the  pro- 
prietor as  he  entered  he  exclaimed: 

"  Now^  Mr.  Warren,  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  were 
on  the  point  of  starting  for  my  boarding-house  to  dun 
me  for  that  bill  I  owe  you.  I  am  really  ashamed  of  my- 
self— but  here's  the " 

"Halloo!  what's  the  matter  with  you,  Jones?"  inter- 
rupted the  tailor.  "  Your  bill  is  a  mere  trifle,  not 
more  than  ten  or  fifteen  dollars,  and  if  I  had  wanted 
the  money  I  should  not  have  failed  to  let  you  know  it 
But,  Jones,  I  intend  to  make  you  a  present  of  that  and 
more,  too.  You  have  recommended  our  house  exten- 
sively during  your  travels,  and  in  that  way  have  hel])cd 
us  many  a  dollar.  If  you  Avill  step  into  the  back  part 
of  the  store  we'll  take  your  measure  and  put  you  w^  a 
fine  business  suit." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Mr.  Jones  gratefully.  "  I 
accept  your  offer  with  thanks.  I  should  like  a  now 
business  suit,  one  something  like  that  you  made  for 
Harris  a  few  weeks  ago.  By  the  way,  if  it  is  a  fair 
question,  what  did  he  pay  you  for  it  ?" 

"  Not  one  dime,"  said  tlie  merchant  with  a  laugh. 

"How  ?     I  don't  understand  you." 

"I  mean  that  we  have  never  seen  a  cent  of  his  money 
since  he  began  trading  with  us." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jones.  "  I  declare 
I  never  saw  that  fellow's  equal  for  putting  off  things. 
Send  your  bill  down  to  the  store  to-morrow  evening  at 
six  o'clock,  and  give  him  a  first-class  overliauling." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  won't  do  that.  He  may  be  a  little 
short  just  at  present,  and  if  he  is  I  don't  want  to  press 
him.     We  are  not  in  need  of  money." 

"  But  Guy  isn't  sliort;  he's  got  plenty  of  funds." 

"  Then  perhaps  I  should  make  him  angry,  and  that 
wouldn't  pay,  for  he's  a  good  customer." 

"  No,  you'll  not  make  him  mad,"  said  Mr.  Jones, 
"for  he  has  got  so  in  the  habit  of  being  dunned  that  he 
expects  it,  and  never  thinks  of  paying  a  bill  without  it. 
You'll  have  to  talk  right  up  to  him,  for  he  is  as  full  of 


WI/A  T  HAPPENED  A  T  THE  STORE.  251 

excuses  as  an  egg  is  of  meat.  He's  perfectly  honest, 
but  so  peculiar.  You  needn't  tell  him  that  I  suggested 
this  plan  of  operations  to  you." 

"  Of  course  not/'  said  Mr.  Warren. 

The  conversation  ran  on  in  this  channel  while  the 
tailor  was  taking  Mr.  Jones'  measure,  and  the  result 
was  that  the  merchant  announced  his  determination  to 
send  his  bill  to  his  debtor  at  the  store  on  the  following 
evening  at  six  o'clock. 

When  Mr.  Jones  went  out  he  bent  his  steps  toward  a 
livery  stable,  where  a  conversation  of  a  like  character 
with  the  above  took  place  between  him  and  the  proprie- 
tor, and  with  the  same  result.  Then  he  called  at  a 
billiard  saloon,  dropped  into  Dutch  Jake's  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  wound  up  his  walk  by  visiting  a  hat  store  and 
one  or  two  furnishing  establishments.  Having  then 
called  upon  all  of  Guy's  creditors,  he  lighted  a  cigar 
and  strolled  slowly  homeward,  well  satislied  with  his 
evening's  work.  Guy's  debts  amounted  to  two  hundred 
and  seventy-five  dollars. 

''He'll  never  be  able  to  pay  them  out  of  the  salary  he 
draws  now,"  thought  Mr.  Jones.  "'  There  are  only  two 
courses  of  action  open  to  him,  and  no  matter  which 
one  he  chooses,  he  is  doomed  as  surely  as  his  name  is 
Guy  Harris.  I  ought  to  manage  some  way  to  bring 
this  business  to  old  Walker's  ears,"  added  Sir.  Jones, 
stopping  suddenly  and  looking  down  at  the  sidewalk  in 
a  brown  study.  "I  have  it.  Hyslom  is  just  the  man. 
He  is  mean  enough  for  anything." 

Mr.  Jones  turned,  and  hastily  retracing  his  steps  to  a 
billiard  saloon  he  had  visited  a  few  minutes  before,  beck- 
oned to  a  seedy-looking  man  he  found  there,  who  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room.  A  whis- 
pered conversation  was  carried  on  between  them  for  a 
few  moments,  and  was  brought  to  a  close  by  Mr.  Jones, 
who  slipped  a  five-dollar  bill  into  the  hand  of  his  seedy 
companion  and  went  out. 

His  plans  against  Guy  were  now  all  perfected,  and 
making  his  way  homeward  with  a  light  heart,  he  turn- 


252  GUY  HARRIS. 

bled  into  bed  and  slept  soundly  beside  bis  victim,  who 
all  the  nigbt  long  tossed  uneasily  about,  never  once  clos- 
ing his  e3^es  in  slumber. 

Mr.  Jones  and  the  shipping  clerk  ate  breakfast  to- 
gether the  next  morning  as  usual,  and  set  out  in  com- 
pany for  the  store.  Neither  of  them  referred  to  the 
matters  that  had  been  discussed  the  night  before.  They 
were  so  disagreeable  that  Guy  did  not  want  to  talk 
about  them  if  he  could  help  it,  and  Mr.  Jones  was  much 
too  cunning  to  speak  of  them  himself.  He  knew  that 
the  leaven  was  working,  and  he  wanted  to  give  it  plenty 
of  time. 

When  they  reached  the  block  in  which  the  store  was 
located,  Mr.  Jones  begun  casting  anxious  glances  about, 
as  if  he  were  looking  for  some  one.  Presently  he  dis- 
covered a  man,  dressed  in  a  shabby  genteel  suit  of  black, 
standing  in  a  door-way  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 
This  individual,  seeing  that  Mr.  Jones'  eyes  were  fast- 
ened upon  him,  nodded  his  head,  slapped  the  breast- 
pocket of  his  coat,  and  made  other  signs  which  must 
have  been  perfectly  intelligible  to  Mr.  Jones,  for  he  re- 
plied to  them  by  various  gestures  of  approval  and 
delight. 

Guy  remained  at  the  store  but  a  few  minutes — just 
long  enough  to  receive  some  instructions  from  Mr. 
Walker — and  then  went  out  and  hurried  toward  the 
levee. 

As  soon  as  he  had  disappeared,  Mr.  Jones  Avalked  to 
the  door  and  flourished  his  handkerchief  once  or  twice 
in  the  air;  whereupon  the  shabby  individual  in  the 
opposite  door- way  hurried  down  the  sidewalk  to  the 
nearest  crossing,  came  over  to  Mr.  Jones'  side  of  the 
street,  and  with  an  air  of  bustle  and  business  entered  the 
store  and  inquired  for  Mr.  Walker. 

On  being  shown  into  the  private  office  he  placed  his 
hat  on  the  floor,  and  pulling  out  a  memorandum-book, 
which  was  filled  with  papers,  folded  and  indorsed  like 
bills,  said: 

"  You   may   have  heard  of   me,  Mr.  Walker.      My 


WHA  T  HAPPENED  A  T  THE  STORE.  253 

name  is  Hyslom,  and  my  business  is  collecting  bad 
debts.  I  am  a  professional  dun,  at  your  service.  If  it 
will  not  conflict  with  the  rules  of  your  establishment,  1 
should  like  a  few  minates'  interview  with  Mr.  Harris." 

At  this  the  merchant  begun  to  prick  up  his  ears. 

"'The  shipping  clerk  is  absent  just  now,"  said  he. 
"  May  I  be  allowed  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  your 
business  with  him  ?" 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  replied  the  pretended  collector. 
''  It  is  no  more  than  right  that  you  should  be  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  habits  of  your  employes.  Mr.  Har- 
ris, it  seems,  has  been  rather  fast  during  the  last  few 
months,  spending  money  w:lth  a  lavish  hand,  and  run- 
ning in  debt  to  livery  stables,  billiard  saloons,  tailoring 
establishments  and  beer  gardens.  I  have  bills  against 
him  to  the  amount  of  two  hundred  dollars  and  over.  I 
am  well  aware  of  the  fact  that  he  is  perfectly  good,  for 
as  he  is  a  very  wealthy  young  man  and  a  nephew  of 
yours,  I  really " 

"  Sir,"  said  the  merchant,  "  Mr.  Harris  is  no  rela- 
tion to  me." 

"  Indeed!"  exclaimed  the  collector,  starting  up  in  his 
chair.  "  Then  he  is  sailing  under  false  colors.  He  says 
you  are  his  uncle,  and  has  repeatedly  told  his  creditors 
to  send  their  bills  to  you,  and  they  would  be  promptly 
settled." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  his  debts,"  said  Mr.  Walker, 
greatly  astonished.  "  You  must  see  Mr.  Harris  him- 
self.     Good-day,  sir." 

The  bogus  collector  returned  his  memorandum-book 
to  his  pocket,  picked  ujd  his  hat,  and  bowing  himself 
out  of  the  private  office,  hurried  through  the  store,  and 
down  the  street,  like  a  man  driven  to  death  with  business. 

Mr.  AValker  watched  him  as  long  as  he  was  in  sight, 
and  then  arose  slowly  to  his  feet. 

"  I  expected  better  things  of  Guy  than  this,"  said  he 
to  himself.  "  If  I  have  been  deceived  in  him  I  shall  be 
tempted  to  distrust  everybody.  Where  did  he  get  the 
money  he  has  been  spending  so  foolishly?  He  must 
have  used  some  belonging  to  the  firm," 


254  GUY  HARRIS. 

So  saying,  Mr.  Walker  left  his  private  office  to  begin 
a  thorough  investigation  of  Guy's  accounts. 

Business  went  on  as  smoothly  as  usual  in  the  store 
that  day  Avith  everybody  except  Guy.  lie  was  kept  so 
busy,  both  in  doors  aud  out,  that  he  had  but  little  time 
to  devote  to  his  troubles;  but  his  work  dragged  heavily, 
and  every  thing  he  undertook  seemed  to  go  wrong  end 
foremost.  Six  o'clock  came  at  last,  and  while  Guy, 
wearied  in  body  and  mind,  was  standing  at  the  book- 
keeper's desk,  rendering  an  account  of  his  day's  work,  a 
clerk  hurried  up  with  the  information  that  a  lady  had 
called  to  see  him  on  private  business. 

"A  lady — on  private  business?"  repeated  Guy.  "^I 
am  not  acquainted  with  any  ladies  in  St.  Louis." 

There  was  one  lady,  however,  with  whom  he  was 
pretty  well  acquainted,  and  that  was  Mrs.  Willis;  and 
she  it  was  who  had  called  to  see  him. 

'^Mr.  Harris,"  said  she,  as  if  she  hardly  knew  how 
to  make  known  her  errand,  "  I  have  come  to  ask  you  if 
you  could  make  it  convenient  to  settle  your  board  bill 
this  evening?" 

"'Ho,  ma'am,  I  cannot,"  said  Guy,  reddening.  "I 
have  no  money." 

"But  you  draw  vour  quarter's  salary  to-day,  do  you 

\otr 

"1^0,  ma'am.  I  haven't  a  cent  due  me  from  the 
firm.  I  know  this  ought  to  have  been  paid  long  ago, 
Mrs.  Willis,  and  I  am  sorry  indeed  that  I  Jiave  kejDt  you 
waiting.     1  will  hand  you  the  very  first  dollar  I  get." 

It  was  i^lain  that  the  landlady's  heart  was  not  in  the 
business.  She  had  undertaken  it  merely  from  a  sense 
of  duty,  and  having,  as  she  believed,  fulfilled  that  duty, 
she  was  ready  to  drop  the  board  bill  aud  talk  about 
something  else. 

After  a  few  commonplace  remarks  about  the  weather, 
and  the  lively  appearance  of  the  streets,  she  bowed 
pleasantly  to  Guy  and  went  out. 

The  clerk,  feeling  like  a  criminal,  walked  slowly 
back  to  the  book-keeper's    desk,  but    scarcely   had   he 


IVHA  T  HAPPENED  A  T  THE  STORE.  255 

reached  it  when  he  was  informed  that  there  was  another 
visitor  waiting  to  see  him  in  the  front  part  of  the 
store. 

This  time  it  proved  to  be  a  gentleman — one  of  the 
clerks  in  the  emplo}'^  of  the  tailor  he  joatronized  so  ex- 
tensively. He  shook  Gny  cordially  by  the  hand,  asked 
him  how  business  was  prospering,  and  i^roduced  a  bill 
from  his  pocket-book. 

"That's  the  Avav  you  stand  on  our  books/^  said  he, 
"and  I  thought  I  would  droj)  in  and  see  how  you  were 
fixed,"  a  slang  exj^ression  for  ' '  see  if  you  had  any  money." 

The  clerk  b'^at  a  tattoo  with  his  fingers  on  the  coun- 
ter, whistled  "  Dixie,"  and  run  his  eyes  about  the  store 
as  if  he  were  taking  a  mental  inventory  of  the  stock. 
He  had  been  told  by  his  employer  that  he  might  find  it 
necessary  to  give  Guy  a  good  talking  to,  and  he  was 
screwing  up  his  courage. 

"  Eightj'-seven  dollars!"  exclaimed  Guy,  as  he  run  his 
eye  over  the  bill.  "Impossible!  The  last  time  I  spoke 
to  Mr.  Warren  about  my  account  he  told  me  it  was  only 
fifty  dollars." 

"  But  that  suit  of  clothes  you  have  on  your  back  now 
came  from  our  'louse  since  then,"  said  the  clerk. 

"  That's  zz,"  returned  Guy.  "I  forgot  that.  But  it 
beats  me  how  these  bills  do  run  up." 

"Yes;  one  can't  get  dry  goods  for  nothing  in  these 
times.     Are  you  going  to  ante?" 

"  Not  now.     I  can't." 

"  Oh,  that's  played  out.  Come  down!"  said  the  clerk, 
extending  his  hand  toward  Guy  and  rapping  his 
knuckles  on  the  counter.  "Short  settlements  make 
long  friends.     Pay  me  now.'" 

"  But  I  tell  you  I  can't.     I  haven't  a  cent  of  money." 

"Now,  Harris,"  said  the  clerk,  raising  his  voice, 
"permit  me  to  say  that  this  thing  is  getting  monoto- 
nous. If  you  don't  pay,  and  that  too  in  short  order, 
we'll  snatch  you  bald-headed." 

"Don't  talk  so  loud,"  whispered  Guy,  in  great  ex- 
citement. "  I'll  pay  you  as  soon  as  I  can.  Tell  Mr. 
Warren  that  I'll  call  and  see  him  about  this  bill." 


256  GUY  HARRIS. 

"  All  right.  If  yon  know  which  side  of  your  bread  is 
buttered  you  won't  waste  time  in  doing  it.  The  old 
man  talks  of  sending  your  bill  to  Mr.  Walker. '^ 

The  clerk  departed,  and  his  place  was  almost  immedi- 
ately filled  by  Dutch  Jake,  who  entered  with  an  air 
which  said  very  plainly  that  he  wasn't  gc  ing  to  stand 
any  nonsense.     Guy's  heart  sunk  within  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE    PARTNERSHIP. 

EE    GATES,    Meester   Harris?"  said   Dutch 

Jake;,  in  a  voice  so  loud  that   Guy  trembled 

in   apprehension.     "  How   ish  dis   pisness? 

You  got   mine   mcnish — mine   eight   tollars 

und  vorty  zents?" 

"  No/'  said  Guy,  "  I  haven't  got  it." 

Jake's  Avhole  appearance  changed  in  a  second;  his  red 
face  grew  redder  than  ever;  he  squared  himself  in  front 
of  the  counter,  planted  his  feet  firmly  on  the  floor,  and 
doubling  up  his  huge  fist,  begun  flourishing  it  in  the 
air  above  his  head  in  readiness  to  emphasize  the  words 
he  was  about  to  utter. 

Guy  saw  that  there  was  a  crisis  at  hand,  Jake  was 
fairly  boiling  over  with  fury,  and  unless  he  was  appeased 
on  the  instant,  something  dreadful  would  happen.  Guy 
thought  rapidly,  and  spoke  just  in  time. 

^' Hold  on!"  said  he,  '^and  hear  me  out.  I  haven't 
got  the  money  now,  but  I'll  get  it  as  soon  as  the  book- 
keeper is  through  Avith  the  cash  account,  and  on  my 
way  home  I'll  drop  in  and  hand  it  to  you." 

These  words  produced  another  magical  change  in  the 
angry  German.  The  fierce  frown  vanished  and  a  genial 
smile  overspread  his  face.  The  sledge-hammer  fist  was 
opened  and  extended  in  a  friendly  manner  across  the 
counter  toward  Guy. 

" Dot's  all  right,  Meester  Harris,"  said  he.  ''Dot's 
all  right.  Ven  you  comes  around  ve  has  a  glass  of  peer 
at  mine  exbenses,  ain't  it?     Oh,  yah!" 

Jake  departed,  and  then  came  the  hatter,  the  livery 
stable  keeper,  the  jeweler,  the  man  who  had  furnished 
the  young  spendthrift  with  the  fine  shirts  and  neck-ties 
he  wore,  and  lastly,  the  proprietor  of  the  billiard  saloon 


258  GUY  HARRIS, 

— all  of  whom  presented  bills  which  greatly  exceeded 
Guy's  calculations.  They  all  appeared  to  be  satisfied 
with  their  debtor's  promise  to  pay  up  at  once.  But 
some  of  them  left  him  with  the  assurance  that  if  money 
were  not  speedily  forthcoming,  they  would  place  their 
accounts  before  Mr.  Walker. 

Guy  was  utterly  confounded.  He  could  not  imagine 
what  had  caused  all  his  creditors  to  become  so  pressing 
in  their  demands.  Like  one  in  a  dream  he  went  through 
his  business  with  the  book-keeper,  and  when  it  was  com- 
pleted, hurried  away  to  fi.nd  his  friend  and  counselor, 
Mr.  Jones. 

In  the  back  part  of  the  store  was  a  small  apartment 
which  was  used  as  a  wash-room,  and  to  which  light  was 
admitted  througli  a  single  pane  of  glass  set  in  the  door. 
In  this  room  Guy  found  Mr.  Jones,  busy  performing  his 
ablutions.  He  had  retreated  there  immediately  on  the 
entrance  of  Mrs.  Willis,  and  through  the  pane  of  glass 
before  mentioned  had  watched  all  that  went  on  in  the 
store.  He  could  not  hear  what  was  said,  but  he  knew 
by  the  impatient  gestures  of  some  of  the  creditors  and 
the  despairing  expression  that  frequently  overspread 
Guy's  face,  that  some  bitter  things  had  been  said  and 
some  alarming  threats  made. 

"  Great  Scott!'"  whispered  Guy  as  he  entered  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him.  "What  does  this  mean, 
Jones?  The  whole  city  of  St.  Louis  has  been  here  with 
bills  against  me." 

'•'  It  means,  dear  fellow,  that  these  people  want  their 
rights,"  returned  the  commercial  traveler  in  a  tone  of 
voice  which  led  Guy  to  believe  that  his  friend  deei:)ly 
sympathized  with  him  in  his  troubles. 

"But  do  they  imagine  that  I  am  made  of  money — 
that  I  can  raise  almost  nine  months'  wages  at  a  mo- 
ment's warning?"  cried  Guy,  whose  distress  was  painful 
to  behold.  "I  owe  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  dol- 
lars.    Jones,  I  am  ruined!" 

"  It  certainly  looks  that  way,"  was  the  thought  that 
passed  through  the  mind  of  the  commercial  traveler, 
but  he  looked  down  at  the  floor  and  said  nothing. 


THE  PARTNERSHIP.  259 

''If  you  have  the  least  friendship  for  me  suggest 
something/^  continued  Guy  in  a  trembling  voice — 
''something — anything — no  matter  what  it  is  if  it  will 
only  put  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars  in  my 
pocket.  I  must  have  it,  for  these  men  have  almost  all 
threatened  to  call  upon  Mr.  Walker  if  I  don't  settle  up 
at  once.  If  he  should  hear  how  I  have  been  going  on  he 
would  discharge  me." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  he  would,"  answered  Mr.  Jones,  twirl- 
ing his  mustache  and  gazing  through  the  window  into 
the  store.  "  It  Avould  doubtless  make  him  angry,  for 
merchants,  you  know,  are  very  particular  in  regard  to 
the  habits  of  their  clerks.  It  is  a  hard  case,  Guy — a 
desperate  case;  and  I  confess  that  it  is  one  I  cannot 
manage,  although  I  am  fruitful  in  expedients.  I  have 
thought  the  matter  over  since  I  have  been  in  here,  but 
have  hit  upon  no  honest  plan  to  get  you  out  of  your 
difficulties.  It  is  true,"  added  Mr.  Jones,  speaking  as 
if  he  were  communing  with  himself,  "you  handle  con- 
siderable of  the  firm's  money,  and  might  borrow  tAvo  or 
three  hundred  of  it  just  to  shut  up  the  mouths  of  these 
im]3atient  creditors." 

"  Oh,  no,"  exclaimed  Guy  quickly;  "I  can't  do  that." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you  would,"  continued  the  com- 
mercial traveler,  in  his  oily  tones,  "but  it  is  an  ex- 
pedient often  resorted  to  by  business  men  to  help  them 
out  of  desperate  straits  like  yours,  and  I  can't  see  that 
there  would  be  any  danger  in  it  in  your  case.  A  good 
many  of  our  customers  are  settling  their  business  pre- 
paratory to  going  to  war.  Suppose  that  one  of  them 
pays  you  four  or  five  hundred  dollars,  goes  into  the  army 
and  gets  killed,  and  you  use  the  money!  Who  would  be 
the  wiser  for  it?  Of  course  you  would  not  be  dishonest 
enough  to  steal  the  money — you  would  ordy  borrow  it 
until  such  time  as  you  could  replace  it  out  of  your  salary; 
and  if  you  felt  any  conscientious  scruples  about  it,  you 
might  pay  interest  for  the  use  of  it." 

"  But  how  could  I  account  for  the  money  being  in  my 
possession  when  I  got  ready  to  pay  it  over?"  asked  Guy. 


260  GUY  HARRIS, 

*' Easily  enough.  You  could  say  to  Mr.  Walker  some 
morning:  '  I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  So-and-So  last 
night.  He  went  into  the  service  six  months  ago,  you 
know,  without  settling  with  us.  Here's  the  amount  of 
his  bill  with  interest  to  date.^  That's  all  fair  and  square, 
isn't  it?" 

''But  Mr.  Walker  or  the  book-keeper  would  want  to 
acknowledge  the  receipt  of  the  money,"  said  Guy. 

"Of  course  they  would.  You  could  give  them  some 
fictitious  address,  and  as  you  have  all  the  letters  to  mail, 
you  could  easily  see  that  that  jjarticular  letter  did  not 
go  into  the  office." 

"  But  you  said  something  about  the  man  being  killed. 
Suppose  that  happens  before  I  have  had  time  to  save 
enough  out  of  my  salary  to  replace  the  money  I  have 
borrowed.  Then  what ?  He  can't  pay  his  debt  after  he 
is  dead." 

"  Of  course  not;  and  in  that  case  you'll  be  smart 
enough  to  say  nothing  to  nobody  about  it.  Just  keep 
mum.  The  amount  of  his  bill  will  go  on  the  debtor 
side  of  the  profit  and  loss  account,  but  you'll  be  just  that 
much  ahead." 

As  Mr.  Jones  said  this  he  looked  sharply  at  Guy,  and 
told  himself  that  his  specious  arguments  were  beginning 
to  have  their  effect.  The  shipping  clerk  was  gazing 
steadily  at  the  floor,  and  there  was  an  expression  on  his 
face  that  had  never  been  seen  there  before. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  couldn't  carry  out  that  plan  success- 
fully," said  Guy,  after  a  few  moments'  reflection.  "  It 
is  somewhat  complicated,  and  my  knowledge  of  business 
is  so  limited  that  I  might  make  a  mistake  somewhere.  I 
would  much  rather  go  into  partnership  with  you,  as  you 
suggested  last  night." 

Mr.  Jones  hastily  seized  the  towel  and  buried  his  face 
in  it  to  conceal  his  exultation.  He  had  Guy  under  his 
thumb  at  last. 

"  I  think  myself  that  it  would  be  the  safer  plan, ''said 
he,  as  soon  as  he  had  controlled  himself  so  that  he  could 
speak  with  his  usual  steadiness  of  voice,  ''and  it  is  the 
surest  way,  too." 


THE  PARTNERSHIP.  261 

'^It  is  a  way  I  don't  like,"  said  Guy.  "It  is  swin- 
dling." 

"■  But  it  brings  in  the  money  by  the  handful,  and 
money  is  what  makes  the  mare  go  in  these  times,"  re- 
turned Mr.  Jones.     "  We'll  go  home  and  talk  it  over." 

"  You  must  be  very  particular  in  your  explanations," 
said  Guy.  "It  is  a  new  business  to  me, 'you  know,  and 
I  might  spoil  the  Avhole  thing." 

"  Never  fear.  It  is  easily  learned,  and  I  will  go  over 
it  so  often  that  you  can  remember  everything  I  say  and 
do.  This  is  your  last  chance,  you  know,  for  I  leave  the 
city  on  the  eleven  o'clock  train  to-uight,  to  be  gone  at 
least  three  weeks." 

The  commercial  traveler  had  already  been  more  than 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  making  his  toilet,  and  had  got 
no  further  than  the  washing  of  his  hands  and  face;  but 
noAV  he  begun  to  bestir  himself.  The  most  complicated 
part  of  it  all — the  brushing  of  his  perfumed  locks  and 
the  adjusting  of  his  hat  and  neck-tie  before  the  glass — 
occupied  just  one  minute,  about  one-tenth  of  the  time 
Mr.  Jones  usually  devoted  to  it.  Then  he  was  ready  to 
give  Guy  his  first  lesson  in  playing  the  part  of  confidence 
man. 

In  order  that  they  might  be  free  from  all  interruption, 
they  went  directly  home  and  locked  themselves  in  their 
room,  where  they  remained  in  close  consultation,  coming 
out  when  the  supper-bell  rung,  and  returning  immedi- 
ately after  disposing  of  a  very  light  meal.  By  that  time 
Guy  had  thoroughly  mastered  the  part  he  was  to  perform, 
and  all  that  remained  to  be  done  was  to  hunt  up  some- 
body with  plenty  of  money,  and  try  the  effect  of  their 
scheme  upon  him.  As  soon  as  it  begun  to  grow  dark 
they  left  the  house,  and  sauntered  away,  arm-in-arm,  as 
if  they  had  determined  upon  nothing  in  particular. 
Arriving  at  Fourth  Street,  they  stationed  themselves  in 
a  dark  door-way,  and  Mr.  Jones,  settling  into  an  easy 
position,  closely  scrutinized  every  man  who  passed, 
finally  singling  out  one  as  an  object  worthy  of  their 
attention. 


263  GUY  HARRIS. 

There  was  nothing  particularly  noticeable  abont  this 
man,  either  in  his  clothing  or  manners,  for  he  was  as 
well  dressed  as  the  majority  of  the  pedestrians  who  were 
constantly  passing  along  the  street,  and  there  was  none 
of  that  "  country  air  "  about  him  which  seems  to  be  in- 
separable from  so  many  who  live  in  the  rural  districts. 
From  what  Guy  had  learned  of  the  nature  of  the  busi- 
ness in  hand,  he  inferred  that  their  act  could  be  practiced 
with  safety  and  success  only  on  green  countrymen,  and 
this  individual  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  most  unpromising 
object  to  operate  upon.  But  Mr.  Jones  thought  differ- 
ently. 

''  He's  the  fellow  we're  looking  for,"  said  he,  in  a 
whisper.  "The  only  question  is  whether  or  not  he  is 
well  fixed;  but  that  is  something  we've  got  to  find  out. 
Follow  him  up  and  speak  to  him  at  the  first  opportunity. 
If  he  doesn't  give  you  a  chance  make  one  for  yourself. 
Be  careful  now." 

With  a  beating  heart  Guy  stepped  down  from  the 
door-way  and  set  out  in  pursuit  of  the  gentleman;  and 
before  he  had  gone  a  block  an  opportunity  to  accost  him 
presented  itself.  When  the  gentleman  reached  a  cross- 
ing he  stopped  and  looked  up  at  the  building,  searching 
no  doubt  for  the  names  of  the  streets.  Guy  came  up 
behind  him  and  also  stopped  and  looked  about  with  a 
bewildered  air,  as  if  he  did  not  know  Avhich  way  to 
turn. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  he;  "  will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  tell  me  which  way  to  go  tc  find  Robinson's 
hardware  store?" 

"I  should  be  glad  to  tell  you  if  I  knew,  but  1  am  a 
stranger  here,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Are  you,  indeed?"  said  Guy.  '''So  am  I;  and  the 
worst  of  it  is,  I  fear  I  am  lost." 

"  I  am  in  the  same  situation,"  said  the  stranger.  '••'  I 
am  trying  to  find  my  hotel,  and  if  I  don't  succeed  very 
soon  I  shall  call  a  carriage," 

"  Why,  so  you  can.     I  never  thought  of  that." 

*'  Where  are  you  from?"  asked  the  stranger. 


THE  PARTNERSHIP.  263 

"  Brattleboro,  Vermont/'  replied  Guy,  "  and  I  never 
before  was  so  far  away  from  home.  I  have  one  friend 
here,  a  brother-in-law,  if  I  could  only  find  him,  who 
owns  an  extensive  liardAvare  store,  AVhere  do  you  live, 
sir?" 

"A  few  miles  from  Ann  Arbor,  Michigan,  and  this 
is  my  first  visit  to  St.  Louis.  I  am  stopj^ing  at  the 
Olive  Street  Hotel." 

"  So  am  I;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  haven't  funds 
enough  to  pay  for  such  expensive  lodgings,  and  that's 
another  reason  why  I  am  so  anxious  to  find  Robinson. 
My  father  wouldn't  give  me  much  money  for  fear  I 
should  fall  into  the  hands  of — sharpers,  I  believe  he 
called  them." 

"  Yes,  that's  what  they  are,"  said  the  stranger  with 
an  air  of  superior  Avisdom.  "'Your  father  is  a  sensible 
man.  It  isn't  just  the  thing  to  trust  an  innocent  young 
fellow  like  you  alone  in  a  great  city  with  plenty  of 
money  in  his  pocket.     He  is  almost  sure  to  lose  it." 

"  Are  you  not  afraid  ?"  asked  Guy. 

"Me?     No.     I've  traveled." 

"Then  you  will  let  me  stay  with  you,  won't  you?  I 
shall  feel  safe  in  your  company." 

"Certainly,  I  wilL" 

"  Well,  suppose  we  go  and  see  if  we  can  find  our  hotel. 
I'd  rather  walk  than  call  a  carriage.    Your  name  is " 

"  Whitney,"  replied  the  stranger.     "  And  yours?" 

"Benjamin — Rufus  Benjamin,  at  your  service,"  said 
Guy. 

The  embryo  confidence  man  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  that  he  was  making  rapid  headway,  and  when 
Whitney  moved  away  with  him  he  took  his  arm,  and  the 
two  walked  along  conversing  as  familiarly  as  though 
they  had  been  acquainted  for  years. 

Guy  seemed  so  innocent  and  confiding  and  made  him- 
self appear  so  ignorant  of  city  life,  that  Whitney  won- 
dered how  his  father  came  to  trust  him  so  far  away 
from  home,  and  repeatedly  assured  him  that  it  was  a 
fortunate  thing  for  him  that  they  met  just  as  they  did. 


264  GUY  HARRIS. 

for  had  Guy  been  left  to  find  his  way  back  to  his  hotel 
alone,  he  would  have  been  almost  certain  to  get  himself 
into  trouble  of  some  kind. 

Finally,  as  they  were  jjassing  a  beer-garden  their  at- 
tention was  attracted  by  the  strains  of  music,  and  Whit- 
ney proposed  that,  as  it  was  yet  early  in  the  evening, 
they  should  step  in  and  see  Avhat  was  going  on.  Guy 
agreed,  and  when  tbey  had  seated  themselves  at  a  table 
in  a  remote  corner  of  the  garden,  he  called  for  cider. 
He  never  drank  anything  stronger,  he  said,  for  his 
father  didn't  allow  it.  But  the  German  had  no  cider, 
and  Guy,  after  a  great  deal  of  persuasion,  was  as  last 
prevailed  upon  to  indulge  in  a  glass  of  soda-water, 
while  Whitney  solaced  himself  with  a  mug  of  beer. 
For  nearly  half  an  hour  they  sat  at  the  table  conversing 
upon  different  topics,  smoking  their  cigars  and  sipping 
at  their  glasses^  and  then  the  door  opened  and  Mr. 
Jones  came  in. 

"There's  the  very  man  I  have  been  looking  for," said 
Guy  joyfully.  "  How  very  fortunate!  Eobinson,  come 
here." 

Mr.  Jones  approached  the  table  at  which  his  partner 
was  sitting,  and  after  looking  at  him  for  a  moment  as  if 
trying  to  recollect  where  he  had  seen  him  before,  sud- 
denly seized  him  by  both  hands,  and  began  pulling  him 
about  over  the  floor  as  if  he  were  overjoyed  to  meet 
him. 

"Why,  Rufus  Benjamin,  is  this  you?"  he  exclaimed. 
"  You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you." 

"And  neither  do  you  know  how  glad  lam  to  see 
you,"  returned  Guy.  "I  have  been  looking  foi  you  all 
the  afternoon.  Mr.  Eobinson,  permit  me  to  introduce 
my  friend,  Mr.  Whitney,  from  Ann  Arbor,  jMichigan." 

"  HajDpy  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Whitney,"  said  Jones,  ex- 
tending his  hand.  "I  am  always  glad  to  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  any  of  Benjamin's  friends." 

"  I  never  met  him  before  this  evening,"  said  Whitney, 
"but  I  think  I  have  acted  the  part  of  a  friend  in  taking 
him  under  my  charge.  When  I  first  saw  him  he  was  as 
pale  as  a  sheet,  and  trembling  as  if  he  had  the  ague." 


THE  PARTNEkSHlP.  365 

'^Well,  I  was  lost/'  said  Guy,  who  wondered  what 
Whitney  would  think  if  he  knew  the  real  cause  of  his 
nervousness  and  excitement.  "  I  have  never  been  alone 
in  a  big  city  like  this,  you  know/' 

'^I  don't  su]3pose  the  boy  has  been  outside  of  the 
State  of  Vermont  half  a  dozen  times  in  his  life,"  said 
Jones.  "^How  are  things  prosj^ering  in  that  out-of-the- 
way  part  of  the  world  anyhow,  Rufus?" 

"  We've  had  a  very  good  season  in  our  parts,  and  the 
crops  have  done  well,"  replied  Guy,  "  But,  Eobinson, 
why  didn't  you  meet  me  at  the  depot?" 

"  Why  did  you  not  write  and  tell  me  when  to  expect 
you  ?"  asked  Jones. 

"  I  did." 

''Well,  I  have  not  received  the  letter.  I  have  just 
returned  from  Washington,  and  no  doubt  I  shall  find  it 
waiting  for  me  at  home.  Where  are  you  stopping,  gen- 
tlemen?" At  the  Olive  Street  House,  eh?  You  must 
permit  me  to  take  charge  of  you  now,  and  to  say  that 
you  sliall  not  stop  at  a  hotel  any  longer.  I  will  call  a 
carriage  presently  and  take  you  home  with  me.  I  know 
that  Mollie  will  be  glad  to  have  you  come,  Rufus — she's 
my  wife,  you  know,  Mr.  Whitney,  Benjamin's  sister — 
for  it  is  fully  two  years  since  she  has  seen  you." 

The  conversation  thus  commenced  continued  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  Mr.  Jones  was  in  no  hurry  to  be- 
gin his  business  operations,  for  Guy  was  playing  a  part 
that  was  entirely  new  to  him,  and  he  was  afraid  to  trust 
him.  In  a  few  minutes,  however,  he  had  learned  a 
good  deal  of  Whitney's  history  and  habits,  and  having 
satisfied  himself  that  he  was  a  good  subject  to  operate 
upon,  he  gave  Guy  the  signal,  and  the  latter  prepared 
for  action. 


CHAPTEE  XXIX. 

THE    PARTNERS   IN"   ACTION. 

OBINSON,"  said  Guy,  after  a  preliminary- 
cough  and  a  desperate  attempt  to  subdue  his 
increasing  excitement,  "  I  understood  you  a 
while  ago  to  say  that  you  have  just  returned 
from  Washington.  You  went  there  on  some  business 
connected  with  politics,  I  suppose?" 

'*0h,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Jones.  "1  don't  trouble  my 
head  about  politics.  I  have  always  made  my  living 
honestly,  and  I  always  intend  to  do  so.  I  went  there  to 
take  out  a  patent  on  a  recent  invention  of  mine." 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Whitney,  with  some 
eagerness.  "  I  am  interested  in  every  new  invention,  for 
I  do  a  little  business  in  that  line  myself  sometimes.  I 
own  the  rights  for  several  washiug-machines,  pumps, 
and  scissor-sharpeners  in  our  county." 

"  And  this  is  just  what  you  need  to  complete  your 
list,"  said  Mr.  Jones.  "  It  is  a  fine  thing,  and  is  bound 
to  make  somebody  independently  rich  one  of  these  days. 
You  know,  Rufus,  that  about  a  year  ago  I  wrote  you 
that  my  store  had  been  entered  by  burglars,  who  broke 
open  my  safe  and  robbed  it  of  six  thousand  dollars." 

"  I  recollect  the  circumstance,"  said   Guy. 

"Well,"  continued  Mr.  Jones,  "that  convinced  me 
that  business  men  ought  to  take  more  precautions  to 
guard  their  property  from  the  assaults  of  outlaws,  so  I 
set  my  wits  at  work,  and  I  finally  succeeded  in  perfect- 
ing a  burglar-proof  lock — an  arrangement  which  is  at 
once  simple  and  convenient,  but  which  can  neither  be 
cut  with  a  cold-chisel,  blown  open  with  gunpowder,  or 
even  unlocked  by  any  one  who  does  not  understand  its 
construction.  I  gave  away  a  good  many  models  while  I 
was  in  Washington,  but  I  think  I  have  one  or  two  left. " 


THB  PARTNERS  IiV  ACTION:  ^67 

So  saying,  Mr.  Jones  begun  to  oyerbaul  his  pockets, 
and  finally  produced  a  small  brass  padlock,  similar  in 
size  and  shape  to  those  sometimes  nsed  on  dog-collars. 

"Ah!  yes,  here  is  one,"  said  he,  "'and  I  defy  any  man 
in  the  world  to  open  it  without  breaking  it.  This 
model,  you  will,  of  course,  understand,  Mr.  Whitney,  is 
intended  merely  to  illustrate  the  principles  of  the  inven- 
tion. The  locks,  when  ready  for  use,  will  be  made  of 
the  best  of  steel  and  be  large  and  heavy.  I  have  one 
attached  to  the  safe  at  my  store,  and  to-morrow  you  will 
have  an  opportunity  to  see  how  it  looks  and  operates.  I 
Avill  give  it  to  you  on  easy  terms,  and  will  warrant — by  the 
way,  there's  my  partner,  Mr.  Benton.  I  want  to  see 
him  on  particular  business,  so  I  beg  that  you  will  ex- 
cuse me.     I  will  return  in  one  moment." 

As  Mr.  Jones  said  this  he  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  dis- 
ap23eared  through  the  door,  evidently  in  pursuit  of  a 
gentleman  who  had  just  gone  out.  He  left  his  inven- 
tion on  the  table,  and  Whitney  picked  it  up  and  exam- 
ined it.  The  key  was  tied  to  it  by  a  piece  of  ribbon, 
and  this  Whitney  inserted  in  the  lock,  Avhen,  behold!  it 
opened  like  any  other  common  padlock.  He  was  aston- 
ished at  his  success.  He  closed  the  lock  again,  and 
opened  it  with  all  ease.  Then  he  handed  it  to  Guy, 
and  he  did  the  same,  and  appeared  to  be  as  much  sur- 
prised thereat  as  was  Mr.  Whitney. 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Jones  came  back. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  hurrying  to  the  table 
and  picking  up  the  lock.  "  I  have  just  made  an 
appointment  with  my  partner,  and  it  is  necessary  that  I 
should  run  down  to  the  store  for  a  few  minutes.  Will 
you  accompany  me?" 

"  No,"  replied  Guy;  "  Ave'll  stay  here.  I  am  too 
tired  to  run  around  any  more  to-night." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  without  giving  Whitney 
time  to  say  whether  he  would  go  or  not.  "Til  return 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  with  a  carriage,  and  then  we'll 
go  round  to  the  hotel  after  your  luggage.  In  the  mean- 
time, enjoy  yourselves  to  the  best  of  your  ability.     I 


2(58  GUY  HARRIS. 

will  leave  my  invention  with  you,  and  yon  can  examine 
it  at  yonr  leisure." 

''We  have  already  inspected  it  to  our  satisfaction," 
replied  Whitney  with  a  smile.  "  I  couldn't  make  a  for- 
tune by  selling  an  arrangement  like  that.  We  opened 
it  very  easily." 

"You  did!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jones. 

'' Certainly,"  said  Guy.  "If  I  were  a  burglar,  and 
wanted  to  get  into  your  safe,  that  lock  would  not  keep 
me  out." 

Mr.  Jones  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  com- 
panions, and  then  dropped  into  a  chair,  a]3parently  over- 
whelmed Avith  amazement. 

"Is  it  possible  that  I  have  made  a  failure  after  all?" 
said  he.  "  If  the  secret  mechanism  of  the  invention 
can  be  so  easily  discovered,  how  does  it  come  that  the 
officials  in  AVashington  did  not  see  through  it  at  once? 
Gentlemen,  you  are  either  dreaming  or  joking." 

"  No,  we  are  awake  and  in  sober  earnest,"  said  Guy. 
"  We  certainly  did  open  that  lock,  and  to  convince  you 
of  the  fact,  we'll  do  it  again.     Hand  it  out  here." 

Again  Mr.  Jones  Avas  silent. 

"I  may  have  made  a  mistake,"  said  he,  after  gazing 
thoughtfully  at  the  floor  for  a  fev*^  moments,  "  but  I  can 
hardly  believe  it." 

"  Give  me  the  lock,"  repeated  Guy,  "and  I  will  bet 
you  any  sum  you  j^lease  that  I  will  02:)en  it  at  the  first 
trial." 

"■  Oh,  I  never  bet,"  said  Jones,  quickly  rising  to  his 
feet  and  buttoning  up  his  coat.  "I  regard  the  taking 
of  ■  money  gained  in  that  Avay  as  but  little  better  than 
highway  robbery." 

"  You  can't  have  much  faith  in  your  invention,"  said 
Whitney. 

"Yes,  I  have  unbounded  faith  in  it." 

"  I  left  the  most  of  my  money  at  the  hotel  in  charge 
of  the  clerk,  but  here's  a  small  amount  Avhich  says  that 
I  did  open  that  lock,  and  that  I  can  do  it  again,"  said 
Guy,    drawing   from  his    jDocket   a   twenty-dollar   bill, 


THE  PARTNERS  TV  ACTION:  269 

whicli  his  friend  and  partnei*  had  furnished  him  for  this 
very  purpose. 

Jones  drummed  with  his  foot  on  the  floor,  puffed 
out  his  ch'^eks,  and  scratched  his  head  like  a  man  in 
deej)  j)erplexity.  He  looked  first  at  Whitney,  then  at 
Guy,  then  down  at  the  money  that  had  been  placed  on 
the  table,  and  finally  dropped  into  his  chair  again. 

"  I  believe  I'll  take  a  hand  in  this,'^  said  Whitney. 
"  I  don't  often  do  things  of  this  kind,  in  fact  never,  un- 
less I  see  a  chance  to  make  something,  but  I'll  stake 
twenty-five  dollars  on  it  just  for  luck." 

Mr.  Jones  again  arose  to  his  feet  and  nervously  rub- 
bed his  chin  as  if  he  were  completely  bewildered  by  this 
turn  of  events,  all  the  Avhile  Avatching  the  movements  of 
Whitney,  who  produced  his  pocket-book  and  counted 
out  the  sum  he  had  named. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  commercial  traveler,  "  when  I 
see  persons  willing  to  Avager  such  large  sums  of  money 
as  those  you  have  laid  upon  the  table,  I  always  know 
they  are  betting  on  a  sure  thing." 

This  remark  had  Just  the  effect  that  Mr.  Jones  in- 
tended it  should  have.  It  led  Whitney  to  believe  that 
in  spite  of  all  he  had  said,  the  patentee  had  suddenly 
lost  faith  in  his  invention. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  brought  out  his 
pocket-book  again  and  counted  down  twenty-five  dol- 
lars more,  which  he  also  placed  ui3on  the  table. 

'■'Now,  Robinson,  Avhat  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?"  asked  Guy. 

"  AVhy,  when  I  am  among  gentlemen  I  do  as  gentle- 
men do,  of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Jones.  "  But  to  tell 
the  truth,  the  confident  manner  in  which  you  act  and 
sj)eak  convinces  me  that  I  have  made  a  grand  mistake." 

Having  said  this  Mr.  Jones  paused  in  the  hope  that 
Whitney  would  take  courage  and  go  down  into  his 
pocket-book  after  more  money.  And  in  fact  this  little 
piece  of  strategy  came  very  near  being  successful,  for 
Whitney  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  but  after  think- 
ing a  moment  he  pulled  it  out  empty. 


270  GUY  HARRIS. 

"  I  knoio  I  have  made  a  mistake/'  said  Mr.  Joiiy,s. 

Here  another  long  pause  was  made,  but  as  Whitney 
showed  no  disposition  to  increase  his  wager^  Mr.  Jones 
continued: 

"  But  it  is  too  late  to  remedy  the  matter  now,  and 
the  invention  must  stand  or  fall  according  to  its 
merits." 

Mr.  Jones  counted  out  seventy  dollars  Avith  which  he 
covered  Guy's  bet  and  Whitney's,  after  wliich  the  money 
was  raked  into  a  pile  and  placed  under  a  hat,  to  hide  it 
from  the  view  of  the  other  people  in  the  garden.  Mr. 
Jones  then  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  produced 
his  patent  lock — not  the  one  he  had  exhibited  before, 
but  another  that  was  not  to  be  opened.  In  shape  and 
size  it  was  so  exactly  like  the  first  that  had  they  been 
seen  together  no  dill erence  could  have  been  detected  be- 
tween them. 

"Now,''  he  said,  ''if  I  have  made  a  failure,  I  am 
willing  to  give  seventy  dollars  to  be  convinced  of  the 
fact."  And  as  he  pushed  the  lock  across  the  table  to- 
ward Whitney,  his  hand  trembled  so  naturally  that  the 
dupe  really  believed  that  this  accomplished  sharper  had 
made  the  first  bet  of  his  life,  and  that  it  had  excited 
him. 

Whitney  took  the  lock  with  a  confident  smile  and  in- 
serted the  key  into  it,  expecting  of  course  to  open  it  as 
he  had  opened  the  other ;  but  his  smile  suddenly  gave 
way  to  a  look  of  astonishment  and  alarm,  and  his  face 
lengthened  out  wonderfully  when  he  found  that  the  key 
would  not  turn.  He  tried  it  over  and  over  again,  shook 
the  lock,  and  even  pounded  it  on  the  table,  but  it  was 
all  in  vain.  Then  he  handed  it  to  Guy,  and  he  met  with 
no  better  success. 

"What  do  you  suppose  can  be  the  matter  with  it?" 
asked  the  latter,  after  he  had  made  several  attempts  to 
open  the  lock. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  replied  Whitney.  "Let 
me  try  again." 

"  We  opened  it  without  the  least  trouble  before," 
continued  Guy. 


THE  PARTNERS  IN  ACTION.  271 

''  Oh,  you  are  certainly  mistaken,  Kufus,"^  said  Mr. 
Jones  blandly. 

"No,  he  isn't!"  exclaimed  the  dupe.  "\  am  not 
blind,  and  I  know  that  we  both  opened  this  lock  not 
ten  minutes  since.  But  we  can't  do  it  now,"  he  added, 
handing  the  invention  back  to  its  owner,  who  put  it 
back  into  his  pocket  and  took  charge  of  the  money. 

''This  is  the  first  I  ever  made  by  betting,"  said  he. 
"  Now  I  must  be  off  to  fulfill  my  engagement  with  my 
partner.  I'll  return  very  shortly,  and  then  we  will  go 
home." 

So  saying  Mr.  Jones  disappeared,  leaving  Guy  and 
Whitney  to  talk  the  matter  over  at  their  leisure. 

"What  an  idiot  I  was  to  risk  my  money  on  that 
thing,"  said  the  latter  regretfully.  "I  ought  to  have 
known  that  a  man  who  has  spent  a  whole  year  in  perfect- 
ing an  invention  is  better  acquainted  with  it  than  a 
stranger.  I  am  nearly  strapped.  I  haven't  money 
enough  to  pay  my  fare  to  Chicago,  and  I  don't  know  a 
soul  this  side  of  there." 

"  Don't  lei;  it  trouble  you,"  said  Guy  soothingly. 
"Eobinson  will  return  that  money  in  the  morning,  and 
then  he  will  read  us  a  long  lecture  on  betting." 

"Do  you  really  think  he  will  give  it  back?"  asked 
Whitney,  in  a  more  hopeful  tone. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  He  does  not  intend  to  keep  it,  for 
he  was  brought  up  in  New  England,  and  according  to 
his  idea,  betting  is  no  better  than  gambling.  Some 
more  cigars,  waiter.     I've  got  a  quarter  left." 

The  cigars  were  brought,  and  Guy,  receiving  the 
matches  from  the  hand  of  the  waiter,  deposited  them  in 
a  little  pool  of  beer  upon  the  table,  so  that  when 
he  wanted  to  light  their  cigars  the  matches  would  not 
burn.  Guy  grumbled  at  this,  and  said  he  would  go  to 
the  bar  for  a  light.  He  went;  and  Whitney,  who  was 
deeply  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts,  bemoaning  his 
folly  for  risking  his  money  on  that  patent  invention,  and 
wondering  if  Robinson  would  be  generous  enough  to  re- 
turn it  in  the  morning,  did  not  see  him  when,  after 


272  GUY  HARRIS. 

ligliting  his  cigar,  he  slipped  through  the  door  into  the 
street. 

Guy's  first  attempt  at  swindling  had  met  with  success, 
but  it  did  not  bring  with  it  those  feelings  of  happiness 
and  independence  which  he  had  so  confidently  looked 
for.  There  was  not  a  criminal  in  St.  Louis  who  felt  so 
utterly  disgraced  as  he  did  at  that  moment.  The  reac- 
tion had  come  after  his  hour  of  excitement,  and  his 
spirits  were  sadly  depressed.  He  looked  upon  it  now  as 
a  most  contemptible  proceeding  to  wheedle  one's  way 
into  a  stranger's  good  graces,  and  then  seize  the  first  op- 
portunity to  do  him  an  injury.  Accompanying  this 
reflection  was  the  thought — and  his  mind  would  dwell 
upon  it,  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do  to  jirevent  it — that  he 
had  rendered  himself  liable  to  legal  punishment,  and 
that  he  was  every  moment  in  danger  of  being  arrested 
and  thrust  into  jail.  Had  AVhitney's  money  been  in  his 
pocket  just  then,  he  would  have  lost  not  a  moment  in 
returning  it  to  its  rightful  owner;  but  it  M'as  safely 
stowed  away  about  the  good  clothes  of  his  friend  and 
partner,  Mr.  Jones,  who  was  seated  in  a  certain  bowling 
alley,  Avhich  had  been  designated  beforehand  as  the 
place  of  meeting,  solacing  himself  with  a  cigar,  and 
anxiously  awaiting  Guy's  appearance. 

When  the  latter  came  in,  Mr.  Jones  beckoned  with 
his  finger,  and  Guy  followed  him  to  the  furthest  corner 
of  the  saloon. 

''Well,"  said  the  commercial  traveler,  "  how  do  you 
like  it  as  far  as  you  have  gone?  Twenty-five  dollars  for 
an  hour's  work  I  call  pretty  fair  wages.  If  you  make 
that  amount  every  night,  it  will  not  take  you  long  to  pay 
your  debts." 

"  I  don't  like  the  business  at  all,"  said  Guy,  ''  and  I 
will  never  attempt  it  again." 

Mr.  Jones  settled  back  in  his  chair,  looked  up  at  the 
ceiling  through  the  clouds  of  smoke  that  arose  from  the 
cigar,  and  said  to  himself: 

"1  don't  know  that  it  makes  any  diSerence  to  me 
whether  you  do  or  not.      If  you  don't  pay  your  debts  in 


THE  PARTNERS  IN  ACTION:  %^% 

this  way,  you  must  use  some  of  the  firm's  money.  When 
you  do  that  your  days  as  shijDping  clerk  are  numbered, 
and  my  brother  will  step  into  the  j)Osition/' 

Then  aloud  he  asked: 

"  How  did  you  get  away  from  him?" 

"^I  did  just  as  you  told  me,"  replied  Guy,  rather  im- 
patiently, for  it  was  a  matter  that  he  did  not  like  to  talk 
about.  "I  dampened  the  matches,  went  to  the  bar  for 
a  light,  and  stepped  out  when  he  wasn't  looking." 

"  He  didn't  bleed  as  freely  as  I  hoped  he  would,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Jones;  "  but,  after  all,  we  did  very  well. 
Here's  your  share  of  the  spoils — twenty-five  dollars." 

It  was  on  the  point  of  Guy's  tongue  to  refuse  to  accept 
it;  but  he  thought  of  Dutch  Jake,  who  was  probably  at 
that  very  moment  stamping  about  his  little  groggery  like 
a  madman,  because  his  eight  dollars  and  forty  cents  had 
not  been  paid  according  to  promise,  and  knowing  that 
the  man  must  at  all  hazards  be  prevented  from  making 
another  visit  to  the  store,  he  took  the  money  and  put  it 
into  his  pocket. 

"  Now  I  must  run  down  and  say  good-by  to  my 
brother,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  "and  by  that  time  the 'bus 
will  be  along  to  take  me  across  the  river.  "  When  I  re- 
turn I  hope  to  find  you  on  your  feet,  and  with  money  in 
your  pocket.     Take  care  of  yourself." 

Mr.  Jones  hurried  out,  and  in  a  few  moments  more 
was  standing  in  the  presence  of  his  brother,  and  recount- 
ing in  glowing  language  the  success  of  his  plans. 

Will  was  in  ecstasies. 

"I  will  put  the  finishing  touch  to  them,"  said  he. 
"  I  will  find  Whitney,  tell  him  that  he  has  been  swin- 
dled, and  put  him  up  to  have  Guy  arrested." 

"That  would  be  a  cunning  trick,  wouldn't  it?"  said 
Mr.  Jones. 

"■  Why,  it  will  bring  the  matter  to  the  notice  of  Mr. 
Walker,"  said  Will,  "and  that's  just  what  I  want." 

"  Well,  it  is  just  what  I  don't  want,"  said  Mr.  Jones. 
"  If  Guy  is  arrested,  I  lose  my  situation,  for  of  course  he 
will  blow  on  me.     You  let  him  alone.     I've  given  him 


274  GUY  HARRIS. 

plenty  of  rope^,  and  if  he  doesn^t  succeed  in  hanging 
himself  by  the  time  I  get  back,  I  can  easily  do  it  for 
him." 

The  commercial  traveler  hurried  out  to  catch  the 
omnibus,  and  Will  tumbled  into  bed  to  dream  of  Guy^s 
disgrace,  and  his  immediate  accession  to  the  office  of 
shipping  clerk. 


CHAPTEE    XXX. 

WORDS     FITLY     SPOKEN". 

UY  LEFT  the  bowling  alley  shortly  after  Mr. 
Jones  went  out,  and  avoiding  all  the  princi- 
pal thoroughfares,  and  taking  all  the  back 
streets  in  his  way,  finally  reached  Dutch 
Jake's  saloon.  He  had  ample  time  to  think  over  his  situ- 
ation, and  was  fast  giving  Avay  to  that  feeling  of  desper- 
ation which  all  criminals  are  said  to  experience.  He 
was  ruined  beyond  all  hope  of  redemption,  he  told  him- 
self, and  he  might  as  well  go  on.  He  must  go  on,  for  it 
was  too  late  to  turn  back. 

Guy  remained  at  Dutch  Jake's  saloon  three  hours, 
apparently  the  gayest  of  the  gay,  and  driven  by  this 
spirit  of  recklessness  and  desperation  that  had  taken  pos- 
session of  him  to  commit  excesses  that  astonished  every- 
body present.  About  one  o'clock  he  got  into  an  alter- 
cation with  somebody,  which  threatened  for  a  time  to 
end  in  a  free  fight,  but  Dutch  Jake  promptly  put  a  stoj) 
to  the  trouble  by  dragging  Guy  out  of  the  saloon  by 
i\\i  collar,  throwing  him  headlong  upon  the  pavement, 
and  then  slamming  and  locking  the  door  to  prevent  his 
return. 

The  boy's  pockets  were  empty.  The  last  cent  of  his 
ill-gotten  gains  had  found  its  way  into  Jake's  money- 
drawer,  and  all  Guy  had  got  for  it  in  return  was  more 
alcohol  than  he  could  carry  and  an  appellation  which, 
in  his  maudlin  condition,  tickled  his  fancy  wonderfully. 
Some  one  had  called  him  "the  prince  of  good  fellows," 
and  during  the  last  hour  his  fuddled  companions  had 
dropped  his  name  and  addressed  him  entirely  as 
"Prince." 

"But  if  I'm  a  prince,"  stammered  Guy,  holding  fast 
to  a  lamp-post  and  looking  in  an  uncertain  sort  of  way 


376  GUY  HARRIS. 

toward  tlie  door  that  had  just  been  closed  behind  him, 
'•  wha's  ye  nse  lockin' m' out?  Do  zey  want  to  (hie) 
'suit  me?     Zey'd  bet-better  mind  zer  eyes!" 

That  is  the  way  with  saloon-keepers,  Guy.  It  is  a 
part  of  their  business.  They  have  no  respect  or  friend- 
ship for  you— it  is  your  money  they  want,  and  when 
they  have  emptied  your  pockets  of  the  last  cent,  and  the 
accursed  stulf  they  have  sold  to  you  mounts  to  your 
brain  and  steals  away  your  wits,  and  the  Evil  One  has 
taken  full  possession  of  you,  they  thrust  you  into  the 
street,  leaving  you  to  shift  for  yourself. 

The  next  few  hours  were  an  utter  blank  to  Guy.  He 
did  not  know  how  he  got  home,  but  that  he  got  there 
in  some  way  was  evident,  for  when  he  came  to  himself 
(about  daylight)  he  was  lying  across  the  foot  of  his  bed 
with  all  his  clothes  on,  and  the  door  of  his  room  was 
standing  wide  open. 

The  instant  his  eyes  were  unclosed  the  events  of  the 
night  came  back  to  him,  accompanied  by  a  sjDlitting 
headache  and  a  feeling  of  nervousness  and  prostration 
that  was  almost  unbearable. 

With  scarcely  energy  enough  to  move,  he  staggered  to 
his  feet  and  closed  the  door  ;  as  he  did  so  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  face  in  the  mirror.  He  could  scarcely 
recognize  himself.  Was  that  pale,  haggard  countenance, 
set  off  with  blood-shot  eyes  and  a  black  and  blue  spot 
on  his  left  cheek,  which  he  had  received  by  coming  in 
contact  with  some  lamp-post  on  his  way  home — was  that 
face  the  face  of  Guy  Harris?  Without  the  beauty  spot 
he  looked  for  all  the  world  as  Flint  looked  on  the  morn- 
ing he  came  creeping  out  of  the  forecastle  of  the  Santa 
Maria,  after  sleeping  off  the  effects  of  the  drug  that  had 
been  administered  to  him. 

Sick  at  heart  and  so  dizzy  that  he  could  not  stand 
without  holding  fast  to  something,  Guy  turned  and  was 
about  to  throw  himself  upon  the  bed  again,  when  he 
heard  a  light  stejD  in  the  hall  and  a  tap  at  his  door. 

"Mr.  Harris,"'  said  the  landlady's  gentle  voice,  "it 
is  almost  eight  o'clock." 


WORDS  FITL  V  SPOKEN.  277 

"■  Great  Scott  I''  thouglit  Guy,  "and  I  ought  to  be  at 
the  store  this  very  moment.  I  don't  see  how  I  can 
stand  it  to  work  all  day,  feeling  as  I  do.  I'll  have  to 
fill  up  on  beer  again  before  my  hand  will  be  steady 
enough  to  hold  a  pen.  Yes,  ma'am,"  he  added  aloud. 
"I  will  be  down  immediately.  I  declare  my  voice  has 
changed,  too.  I'm  not  myself  at  all.  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
going  to  drop  all  to  pieces.'^ 

The  announcement  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  be  at 
work  infused  some  life  into  Guy.  By  the  aid  of  a  clean 
shirt  and  collar  and  copious  ablutions  he  made  a  little 
improvement  in  his  appearance,  but  the  general  feeling 
of  worthlessness  and  the  overwhelming  sense  of  shame 
that  joressed  upon  him,  could  not  be  touched  by  cold 
water  and  clean  linen.  The  thought  that  he  must 
sj)end  the  next  ten  hours  in  contact  with  his  fellow-men 
was  terrible.  He  did  not  want  to  see  anybody.  He 
0]3ened  the  door  very  carefully,  and  went  down  the 
stairs  with  noiseless  footsteps,  intending  to  leave  the 
house  before  his  landlady  should  see  him ;  but  she  was 
on  the  watch.  She  met  him  in  the  hall,  and  there  was 
something  in  her  eye  which  told  Guy  that  she  knew  at 
least  a  part  of  the  incidents  that  had  happened  the 
night  before. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Harris,"  said  she,  with  her 
usual  pleasant  and  motherly  smile,  "  I  have  kept  your 
breakfast  warm  for  you. " 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Willis,"  said  Guy,  in  a  very  un- 
steady voice,  "but  I  cannot  stop  to  eat  anything;  I  am 
late  now.     Besides,  I  am  not  hungry." 

"  No  matter;  you  can't  work  all  day  without  taking 
something  nourishing,"  returned  the  landlady,  and  as 
she  spoke  she  took  Guy's  arm,  and  paying  no  heed  to  his 
remonstrances  led  him  into  the  cozy  little  dining-room, 
and  seated  him  at  the  table. 

A  tempting  breakfast,  consisting  of  his  favorite 
dishes  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  such  as  Mrs.  Willis  only 
could  make,  was  placed  before  him,  but  Guy  could  not 
eat.     He  wished  he  could  sink  through  the  floor  out  of 


278  GUY  HARRIS. 

the  lady's  sight.  He  wished  she  would  go  away  and 
leave  him  to  the  companionship  of  his  gloomy  thoughts; 
but  she  had  no  intention  of  doing  anything  of  the  kind. 
She  closed  all  the  doors,  and  then  came  and  stood  by 
the  boy's  side  Avith  her  hand  resting  on  the  back  of  his 
chair. 

"Guy,"  said  she  sorrowfully,  "^^  what  made  you  do  it?" 

The  clerk  stirred  his  coffee,  but  could  make  no  reply. 

"■  I  know  you  will  forgive  me  for  sjieaking  about 
this,"  said  Mrs.  Willis,  laying  lier  soft,  cool  hand  on 
Guy's  feverish  forehead.  "I  do  it  because  I  feel  a 
mothers  interest  in  you.  I  have  a  son  somewhere  in 
the  wide  world,  and  if  he  should  fall  into  sucli  ruinous 
habits  as  these,  I  should  feel  very  grateful  if  some  kind 
soul  would  whisper  a  word  of  warning  in  his  ear.  Stop 
and  think  of  it,  Guy!  Stop  now,  while  you  can.  What 
would  your  dear  mother  say?" 

As  Mrs.  Willis  uttered  these  words — the  first  really 
kind,  affectionate  words  that  had  fallen  upon  his  ear 
from  the  lips  of  a  woman  for  long,  long  years — Guy's 
heart  softened,  a  great  lump  came  up  in  his  throat,  and 
tears  started  to  his  eyes.  Mrs.  Willis  was  in  a  fair  way 
to  accomplish  something  until  she  spoke  ,  '  his  mother. 
Then  Guy  thought  of  his  father's  wife,  ana  the  old  feel- 
ing of  desperation  came  back  to  him. 

"  I  have  no  mother,"  said  he.     "  She  is  dead." 

''Then  think  of  your  father,"  urged  Mrs.  Willis. 
''MVhat  would  he  say?  Surely  he  loves  you,  and  you 
ought  to  respect  his  feelings." 

"^  Well,  if  he  loves  me  he  has  never  showm  it,"  re- 
torted Guy  bitterly.  ''  I  don't  care  what  he  thinks.  He 
never  respected  my  wishes  or  feelings  while  I  was  at 
home,  and  I  don't  see  why  I  should  respect  his  now." 

"Oh,  Guy,  don't  talk  so.  There  must  be  some  one 
whose  good  opinion  you  value — some  one  you  love. 
Who  is  it?" 

Guy  was  silent.  He  could  not  recollect  that  during 
the  time  he  had  been  absent  from  home  he  had  thought 
of  more  than  one  of  his  relations  with  any  degree  of 
allection. 


WORDS  FITL  Y  SPOKEN.  279 

"I  don't  know  of  anybody,"  said  he  at  length,  "  ex- 
cept my  Aunt  Lucy — and  you." 

"  Then  for  your  aunt's  sake — for  my  sake,  Gruy, 
promise  me  that  this  shall  never  happen  again.  Promise 
me  faithfully  that,  as  long  as  you  live,  you  will  never 
touch  a  drop  of  anything  intoxicating,  and  that  you  Avill 
never  again  go  inside  a  billiard  saloon  or  a  card-room. 
Promise  me." 

Again  Guy  was  silent,  not  because  he  was  unwilling  to 
answer,  but  because  he  could  not.  His  heart  was  too 
full.  Mrs.  Willis  was  satisfied  that  if  the  promise  was 
once  made,  it  would  be  religiously  kept.  She  had  read 
Guy  as  easily  as  she  could  read  a  printed  page,  and  was 
well  enough  acquainted  with  him  to  know  that  when  he 
once  fully  made  up  his  mind  to  a  thing,  he  was  like 
Hosea  Biglow's  meeting-house — too  "sot"  to  be  easily 
moved.  So  she  was  resolved  to  have  the  promise,  and 
she  took  a  woman's  way  to  exert  it.  She  put  her  arms 
around  Guy's  neck,  and  drew  his  face  up  so  that  she 
could  look  into  it.  When  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were 
filled  with  tears,  she  knew  that  she  had  conquered. 

"Promise  me,"  she  repeated. 

"■  I  promise,"  said  Guy  in  a  husky  voice. 

"  Heaven  help  you,"  said  Mrs.  AVillis  fervently;  and 
as  she  said  it  she  kissed  him  and  glided  out  of  the 
room. 

"  Great  Cassar!"  exclaimed  Guy  as  soon  as  she  had  dis- 
appeared. 

He  jumped  to  his  feet,  overturning  his  chair  as  he 
did  so,  ascended  the  stairs  four  steps  at  a  time,  entered 
his  room  and  slammed  the  door  behind  him.  He  was 
not  accustomed  to  such  treatment  as  this,  and  he  hardly 
knew  what  to  make  of  it.  It  was  some  minutes  before 
he  had  collected  himself  so  that  he  could  think  calmly. 

"  I  looked  for  nothing  but  a  good  scolding  and  an  in- 
vitation to  make  myself  scarce  about  this  house,"  said 
Guy  to  himself;  "and  if  Mrs.  Willis  had  treated  me  in 
that  way  she  would  have  served  me  just  right.  But  she 
lias  given  me  a  chance  for  my  life.     If  she  will  only 


280  GUY  HARRIS. 

stand  by  me  I  will  come  out  all  right  yet,  for  I'll  keep 
that  promise  no  matter  what  happens.  >She  doesn't 
know  about  my  swindling  operations,  but  Mr.  Walker 
must  know  of  them.  I  am  going  to  rub  this  thing  all 
out  and  begin  over  again;  and,  in  order  to  do  it  as  it 
ought  to  be  done,  I  must  tell  him  everything.  If  it 
brings  me  my  walking  papers  I  shall  have  nobody  to 
thank  but  myself." 

Gruy  put  on  his  hat  and  went  down  the  stairs  and  out 
of  the  house,  walking  with  a  firm  step  and  his  counte- 
nance wearing  a  determined  expression.  He  scarcely 
looked  to  the  right  or  left  while  he  was  passing  along 
the  street,  and  when  he  arrived  at  the  store  he  went 
straight  to  the  private  office,  where  Mr.  Walker  sat 
busy  with  his  correspondence. 

"May  I  have  a  few  minutes'  private  conversation 
with  you,  sir?"  he  asked. 

''  Certainly,  Gruy,"  replied  the  merchant,  looking  up 
with  some  surprise.     "Lock  the  door  and  sit  down." 

Guy  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  then,  without  any 
preliminary  words  by  way  of  apology  or  excuse  for  his 
conduct,  begun  and  told  the  story  of  his  mistakes  from 
beginning  to  end.  He  kept  back  nothing  except  the 
name  of  the  confederate  who  had  assisted  him  in  fleec- 
ing Mr.  Whitney,  and  that  he  revealed  only  when  it 
was  demanded.  Mr.  Walker  was  greatly  astonished. 
When  Gruy  finished  his  story  he  sat  for  some  moments 
in  silence. 

"  I  wish  the  boy  had  a  pleasant  home  to  go  to," 
thought  the  merchant.  "  That's  the  place  he  ought  to 
be,  and  there's  where  he  would  be  safe.  But  I  am  sorry 
to  say  he  hasn't  got  it.  If  he  goes  back  to  JSTorwall  his 
father's  unreasonable  strictness  and  partiality,  and  his 
mother's  indifference  will  drive  him  straight  to  ruin. 
He  ought  to  have  kind  words  now,  for  he  has  had  more 
than  his  share  of  harsh  ones." 

"  Don't  hesitate  to  speak  out,  Mr.  Walker,"  said  Gi;y, 
who  believed  that  the  merchant  Avas  thinking  how  he 
could    best   communicate   to    him    the  fact    that    his 


WORDS  FITL  V  SPOKEN.  281 

services  were  no  longer  needed.  "  If  I  am  to  be  dis- 
charged, please  say  so." 

Mr.  Walker  understood  and  fully  a]opreciated  the  situ- 
ation. Guy  was  thoroughly  penitent — there  could  be 
no  question  about  that;  but  there  was  an  ominous  glit- 
ter in  his  eye  and  a  determined  set  to  his  tightly  closed 
lips'  which  the  merchant  did  not  fail  to  noticC;,  and 
which  told  him  as  plainly  as  words  that  if  there  ever 
was  a  moment  in  one's  life  when  his  future  was  to  be  de- 
cided for  good  or  ill,  that  moment  in  Guy's  life  had  ar- 
rived. The  right  word  just  then  would  have  buried  his 
resolutions  of  amendment  beyond  all  hope  of  resurrec- 
tion, and  sent  him  down  hill  with  lightning  speed.  Mr. 
Walker  was  not  an  instant  in  deciding  on  his  course. 

"  My  dear  boy/*'  said  he,  rising  and  taking  Guy's 
hand  in  his  own  with  a  cordial  grasp,  '"'  I  have  no  inten- 
tion of  saying  anything  of  the  kind.  Why  should  I 
discharge  you  when  1  have  all  faith  in  you?  You  are 
a  capable,  painstaking  clerk,  and  until  yesterday  I  never 
knew  there  was  anything  in  your  conduct  with  which 
anybody  could  find  fault.  It  has  been  a  bitter  lesson, 
Guy,  you  know.     Will  you  profit  by  it?'" 

"  Indeed  I  shall,  sir,"  replied  the  boy  with  tears  in 
his  eyes. 

"  Then  I  shall  rest  perfectly  satisfied  that  you  will 
never  make  these  mistakes  again.  My  confidence  in 
you  is  as  strong  as  it  ever  was,  for  there  is  always  hope 
for  one  who  voluntarily  confesses  a  fault.  So  take  cour- 
age and  begin  over  again.  You  have  the  making  of  a 
smart  man  in  you,  Guy,  and  I  hope  to  live  to  see  you 
honored  and  respected." 

These  words  were  too  much  for  Guy.  Had  Mr. 
Walker  upbraided  him,  as  he  knew  he  deserved,  the  old 
spirit  of  recklessness  and  desperation,  which  Mrs.  Willis 
had  so  nearly  exorcised,  would  have  come  back  to  him, 
and  he  could  have  kept  up  a  bold  front;  but  the  accents 
of  kindness  touched  his  heart. 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 
Mr.  Walker  waited  until  the  violence  of  his  grief  had 
subsided  and  then  continued: 


282  GUY  HARRIS. 

"  You  have  made  all  tlie  amends  in  your  power,  Guy, 
and  now  I  will  help  you  to  do  the  rest,  so  that  you  can 
begin  over  again  in  good  shape.  In  the  first  ]}\'dQ,Q,  you 
must  return  Mr,  Whitney's  money,*' 

"Oh,  Mr.  Walker!"  exclaimed  Guy. 

''It  must  be  done!"  said  the  merchant.  "No  half- 
way work  will  answer.  I  will  furnish  the  funds,  and  I 
will  also  provide  means  for  the  payment  of  all  your 
debts.  I  will  be  your  only  creditor.  And  when  you 
have  settled  with  all  these  men,  Guy,"  he  added  ear- 
nestly," make  a  resolution  and  stick  to  it,  that  as  long 
as  you  live  you  will  never  again  go  in  debt.  Wear  a 
threadbare  coat,  if  you  must,  but  wear  one  that  is  paid 
for," 

As  Mr.  Walker  said  this,  he  turned  to  his  safe,  and 
counting  out  a  sum  of  money  in  bank-notes,  handed  it 
to  Guy. 

"1  don't  deserve  this  kindness,  sir,"  said  the  boy, 
his  tears  starting  out  afresh, 

"Yes,  you  do,  Guy.  I  regard  you  as  well  worth 
saving." 

The  merchant  passed  out  of  the  private  ofRce,  and 
Guy,  hastily  wij^ing  his  eyes,  went  into  the  wash-room, 
where  he  spent  a  few  minutes  in  removing  all  traces  of 
his  tears,  after  which  he  hurried  out  of  the  store  and 
bent  his  steps  toward  the  Olive  Street  Hotel. 

"  Bob  Walker  was  a  fool,"  thought  Guy,  feeling  of 
his  well-filled  pocket-book  to  make  sure  that  the  scene 
through  which  he  had  just  passed  was  a  reality,  and  not 
a  dream.  "  A  boy  who  will  run  away  from  a  father 
like  that  deserves  to  be  hanged." 

It  required  the  exercise  of  all  the  courage  Guy 
possessed  to  face  Mr.  Whitney,  but  being  determined  to 
go  through  with  the  good  work  so  well  begun  in  sjoite 
of  every  hazard,  he  boldly  entered  the  hotel,  and  almost 
the  first  man  he  saw  when  he  entered  the  reading-room 
was  the  swindled  gentleman  from  Ann  Arbor,  who  was 
pacing  back  and  forth,  with  his  hands  under  his  coat- 
tailsj  and  au  expression  of  great  melancholy  ou  his  face. 


WORDS  FITL  V  SPOKEN.  283 

"When  he  saw  Gny  approacliing,  he  stopped  and  stared 
at  him  as  if  he  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes. 

"Why,  Benjamin,''  he  cried,  "is  this  really  you? 
What  made  you  two  fellows  run  away  and  leave  me  in 
such  a  hurry  last  night?" 

Guy  did  not  know  Avhat  to  say  to  this.  He  did  not 
want  to  spoil  things  by  telling  lies,  so  he  concluded  that 
it  would  be  best  not  to  answer  the  question  at  all. 

''That  man  you  saw  me  with  last  night  left  the  city 
at  eleven  o'clock  on  business,  and  I  have  come  to  return 
your  money,"  said  Guy,  taking  out  his  pocket-book. 

"Have  you  I"  exclaimed  Whitney,  so  overjoyed  that 
his  voice  was  husky. 

"  Yes.  There  are  your  fifty  dollars,  and  if  you  will 
take  a  friend's  advice,  you  will  never  make  another  bet 
with  strangers." 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  shall,"  said  Whitney,  pocketing 
his  recovered  cash.  "You  have  read  me  the  best  lesson 
I  ever  received.  Do  you  know,  it  had  been  running  in 
my  head  all  the  morning  that  I  fell  among  thieves  last 
night?  Curious,  wasn't  it?  Why,  I  have  several  times 
been  on  the  point  of  starting  for  the  police  headquar- 
ters. That  burglar-proof  arrangement  of  Kobinson's  is 
a  fine  thing,  I'll  warrant.  I  guess  it  wasn't  locked 
when  we  opened  it  the  first  time.  I  should  like  to  go 
down  to  his  store  and  see  how  it  looks  on  his  safe,  but  I 
ha  3  just  received  a  telegram  asking  me  to  come  imme- 
diately, for  my  mother  is  very  ill,  so  I  must  be  off  by  the 
first  train.  I  could  not  have  gone  through,  if  you  had 
not  been  good  enough  to  return  my  money.  Let's  go 
and  take  something." 

"No,  sir;  nothing  for  me,"  said  Guy. 

"A  cigar,  then?" 

"No,  I  am  obliged  to  you.  Good-day.  Thank 
goodness  that  job  is  done,"  said  Guy,  as  he  left  the 
hotel,  "  and  I  am  glad  to  get  through  with  it  so 
easily.  Suppose  Whitney  had  given  the  police  a  de- 
scription of  Jones  and  myself,  and  had  us  arrested. 
Whew!    I'll  not  run  another  such  a  risk.'^ 


284  GUY  HARRIS. 

Guy  made  good  use  of  his  time,  and  by  twelve  o^clock 
he  had  called  upon  every  one  of  his  creditors  and  paid 
all  his  debts  in  full.  The  invitations  to  drink  and 
smoke  which  he  received  were  almost  as  numerous  as 
the  places  he  visited,  but  he  firmly  declined  every  one  of 
them.  He  carried  home  with  him  a  much  lighter  heart 
than  he  had  brought  away.  He  went  straight  to  Mrs. 
Willis  with  the  story  of  Mr.  Walker's  kindness,  and 
had  she  been  his  own  mother — as  Guy  wished  from  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  she  was — she  could  not  have  been 
more  delighted  with  the  turn  affairs  had  taken. 

That  day  proved  most  emphatically  to  be  the  turning 
point  of  Guy's  life.  His  choice  had  been  made  for  all 
time.  His  subsequent  career  showed  that  Mrs.  Willis 
had  not  been  mistaken  in  her  estimate  of  his  character. 
His  stability  and  fixedness  of  purpose  surpassed  her  ex- 
pectations. Never  once  did  he  forget  his  promise.  And 
his  performance  in  well-doing  met  with  its  reward. 
Long  before  he  had  time  to  repay  the  money  advanced 
him  by  Mr.  Walker,  that  gentleman  promoted  him  to 
the  position  of  assistant  book-keeper,  and  Guy  never 
gave  him  reason  to  regret  the  step. 

Will  Jones  and  his  brother  terminated  their  connec- 
tion with  the  store  on  the  very  day  Guy  held  his  memo- 
rable interview  with  Mr.  Walker.  The  former  was  dis- 
charged, and  a  dispatch  sent  after  the  commercial 
traveler  commanding  his  immediate  return  to  St.  Louis; 
but  Mr.  Jones,  scenting  danger  from  afar,  did  not  see 
fit  to  obey.     Guy  never  heard  of  him  afterward. 

The  scenes  in  the  life  of  Guy  Harris  which  I  have  at- 
tempted to  describe  in  this  story  were  enacted  more  than 
twelve  years  ago,  and  Guy  has  now  become  a  man. 
Strict  regard  for  truth  compels  me  to  say  that  he  is 
neither  a  governor  nor  a  member  of  the  legislature;  but 
he  is  a  prosperous  man  and  a  hapj^y  one,  and  in  the  city 
in  which  he  has  taken  up  his  abode  there  are  none  who 
are  held  in  higher  esteem  than  he. 

Now  and  then  he  visits  his  father  at  Norwall,  but  he 
does  it  from  a  sense  of  duty  and  not  for  pleasure,  for  his 


WORDS  FITL  V  SPOJi^EAT.  285 

old  home  has  no  more  attractions  for  him  now  than  it 
had  in  the  days  of  his  boyhood.  Between  him  and  his 
relatives  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed  which  they  can  all  see, 
and  which  they  know  can  never  be  bridged  over.  Mr. 
Harris  is  painfully  conscious  of  the  fact,  and  would  will- 
ingly give  every  cent  of  his  possessions  to  have  it  other- 
wise, but  it  is  too  late.  "It  might  have  been,"  but  the 
favored  hour  has  gone  by.  Guy's  affections  were  long 
ago  alienated.  There  are  two  people  in  the  world,  how- 
ever, upon  whom  he  bestows  all  the  love  of  his  ardent 
nature,  and  they  are  Mrs.  Willis  and  Mr.  Walker.  If 
there  is  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth, 
are  there  not  rich  blessings  laid  up  in  store  for  those 
who  lead  that  sinner  to  repentance? 


THE   ElfD. 


THE  BOYS' HOME  SERIES. 

XJniforixL    ^vith.    this    Volunie. 

This  series  affords  wholesome  reading  for  boys  and  girls,  and  all  the 
volumes  are  extremely  interesting. — Cincinnati  Commercial  Gazette. 

JOE'S  LUCK;  or,  A  Boy's  Adventures  in  California.  By  Hora- 
tio Alger,  Jr. 

JULIAN  MORTIMER;  or,  A  Brave  Boy's  Struggles  for  Home 
and  Fortune.     By  Harry  Castlemon. 

ADRIFT  IN  THE  WILDS;  or,  The  Adventures  of  Two  Ship- 
wrecked Boys.     By  Edward  S.  Eli. is. 

FRANK  FOWLER,  THE  CASH  BOY.     By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

GUY  HARRIS,  THE   RUNAWAY.     By  Harry  Castlemon. 

BEN  BURTON,  THE  SLATE-PICKER.     By  Harry  Prentice. 

TOM  TEMPLE'S  CAREER.     By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

TOM,  THE  READY  ;   or,  Up  From  the  Lowest.     By  Randolph 

Hill. 
THE  CASTAWAYS;  or,  On  the  Florida  Reefs.     By  James  Otis. 

CAPTAIN  KIDD'S  GOLD.     The  True  Story  of  an  Adventurous 

Sailor  Boy.     By  James  Franklin  Fitts. 
TOM   THATCHER'S   FORTUNE.     By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

LOST  IN  THE  CANON.     The  Story  of  Sam  W^illett's  Adventures 
on  the  Great  Colorado  of  the  West.     By  Alfred  R.  Calhoun. 
A  YOUNG  HERO;  or.  Fighting  to  Win.     By  Edward  S.  Ellis. 

THE  ERRAND  BOY;  or,   How   Phil   Brent  W^on   Success.     By 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 
THE   ISLAND   TREASURE;    or,   Harry  Darrel's   Fortune.     By 

Frank  H.  Converse. 
A    RUNAW^AY    BRIG  ;    or,   An    Accidental    Cruise.     By  James 

Otis. 
A  JAUNT  THROUGH   JAVA.     The  Story  of  a  Journey  to  the 

Sacred  Mountain  by  Two  American  Boys.     By  Edward  S. 

Ellis. 
THE  KING   OF   APELAND.     The  Wonderful  Adventures  of  a 

Young  Animal-Trainer.     By  Harry  Prentice. 
TOM,    THE    BOOT-BLACK;    or.    The    Road    to    Success.     By 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 
ROY  GILBERT'S  SEARCH.     A  Tale  of  the  Great  Lakes.     By 

William  P.  Chipman. 
THE   TREASURE-FINDERS.     A  Boy's  Adventures  in  Nicara- 
gua.    By  James  Otis. 
BUDD  BOYD'S  TRIUMPH  ;  or,  The  Boy  Firm  of  Fox  Island. 

By  William  P.  Chipman. 


The  above  stories  are  printed  on  extra  paper,  and,  bound 
in  Handsome  Cloth  Sinding,  in  all  respects  tiniform  tvith 
this  volume,  at  $1.00  per  copy. 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  post-paid  on  receipt  of  price, 
by  the  publisher.  A.,  i.  BUKX,  36  JBeehnian  St.,  New  Xorh. 


mmil  and  gractiat  ^00^1 


Why,  When  and  Where.  A  dictionary  of  rare  and  curious 
information.  A  treasury  of  facts,  legends,  sayings  and  their  explan- 
ation, gathered  from  a  multitude  of  sources,  presenting  in  a  conven- 
ient form  a  mass  of  valuable  knowledge  on  topics  of  frequent  inquiry 
and  general  interest  that  has  been  hitherto  inaccessible.  Carefully 
compared  with  the  highest  authorities.  Edited  by  Robert  Thorne, 
M.A.     500  pages.     Cloth,  12mo,  price  $1.00. 

"  In  fact  it  is  a  miniature  encyclopedia  devoted  to  concisely  stated  facts  on 
matters  of  every-day  interest,  yet  beyond  the  scope  of  every-day  knowledge." 
— Hartford  Times. 

A  Cyclopedia  of  Natural  History.  Comprising  descriptions  of 
Animal  Life :  Mammals,  Birds,  Reptiles,  Batrachians  and  Fishes. 
Their  Structure,  Habits  and  Distribution.  For  popular  use.  By 
CHAitLES  C.  Abbott,  M.  D.  620  pages.  500  illustrations.  Cloth, 
12mo,  price  $1.00. 

"  The  author  has  shown  great  skill  in  condensing  his  abundant  material, 
while  the  illustrations  are  useful  in  illustrating  the  information  furnished  in 
the  text." — Times,  Troy. 

The  National  Standard  Encyclopedia,  A  Dictionary  of  Lit- 
erature, the  Arts  and  the  Sciences,  for  popular  use  ;  containing  over 
20,000  articles  pertaining  to  questions  of  Agriculture,  Anatomy,  Archi- 
tecture, Biography,  Botany,  Chemistry,  Engineering,  Geography, 
Geology,  History,  Horticulture,  Literature,  Mechanics,  Medicine, 
Physiology,  Natural  History,  Mythology  and  the  various  Arts  and 
Sciences.  Prepared  under  the  supervision  of  a  number  of  Editors, 
and  verified  by  comparison  with  the  best  Authorities.  Complete  in 
one  volume  of  700  pages,  with  over  1,000  illustrations.  Cloth,  12mo, 
price  $1.00. 

Lav?  Without  Lawyers.  A  compendium  of  Business  and  Domes 
tic  Law,  for  popular  use.  By  Henry  B.  Corey,  LL.B.,  member  of 
New  York  Bar.     Cloth,  12mo,  price  $1.00. 

"  The  volume  before  us  is  a  vei-y  convenient  manual  for  every-day  use,  con- 
taining a  general  summary  of  the  law  as  applied  to  ordinary  business  transac- 
tions, social  and  domestic  relations,  with  forms  for  all  manner  of  legal  docu- 
ments."—TV'oy  Times. 

Dr.  Danelson's  Counselor,  with  Recipes.  A  trusty  guide  for 
the  family.  An  illustrated  book  of  720  pages,  treating  Physiology, 
Hygiene,  Marriage,  Medical  Practice,  etc.  By  J.  E.  Danelson,  M.  D. 
Illustrated.     Cloth,  12mo,  price  $1.00. 

"  The  Counselor  is  pure  and  elevating  in  its  morals,  and  wise  and  practical 
in  the  application  of  its  counsels.  It  can  but  be  a  helper  in  homes  following 
its  directions."— ^eii.  ./.  V.  Ferguson,  Pastor  M.  E.  Churcf>,  Mohaicl\  y.  Y. 

The  National  Standard  History  of  the  United  States.  A  com- 
plete and  concise  account  of  the  growth  and  development  of  the 
Nation,  from  its  discovery  to  the  present  time.  By  Everit  Brown. 
600  pages.     Illustrated.     Cloth,  12mo,  price  $1.00. 

In  this  most  interesting  book  our  country's  history  is  told  from  the  discovery 
of  America  down  to  the  election  of  Benjamin  Harrison  as  President  of  the 
United  States. 

For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  post-paid  on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  pub- 
lisher, ^.  L.  BT7ItT,56  Heekmau  St.,  New  Tofk. 


